


The Long Game

by not_rude_ginger



Series: Aimless Play Series [5]
Category: Norse Mythology, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Epic Love, F/M, Family Drama, Gen, Genderplay, Loki Feels, Married Couple, Multi, Politics, past dubious consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-19
Updated: 2014-11-01
Packaged: 2017-12-24 00:58:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 68
Words: 313,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/933232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/not_rude_ginger/pseuds/not_rude_ginger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki has learned that the only way to get what he wants is to play the games he's good at. Now, Thor is banished, Odin sleeps, and Loki is king; a role he never wanted, but must uphold until Odin wakes, whenever that may be. Loki has to ensure his brother is safe, his kingdom avoids war, and his illegal marriage to Crown Princess Sigyn of Vanaheim remains a secret until the right time, all the while dealing with the truth of his heritage. He longs to show everyone that he can make Asgard great, but in the process he may lose what matters most to him. </p><p>Balancing politics, affairs, love and family, this will be the longest game Loki has ever played, but he is determined to win.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Doubt and Certainty

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story I started over a year ago, and I've finally gotten around to posting it here. It started as a relatively simple tale about a secret marriage and a few days as king and developed into a much more complicated emotional and political drama that has reached and passed 230,000 words and is still going. I'm aiming to finish it before November, because the release of Thor 2 will screw up my plans no end. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy it!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frigga places Gungnir in Loki's hands, and he needs reassurance that he can handle this from the only source he can now trust.

“Thor is banished. The line of succession falls to you. Until Odin awakens, Asgard is yours. Make your father proud, my king.”

Frigga’s soft words filled Loki’s head as he tentatively wrapped his hands around Gungnir. The staff pulsed with warm seiðr through the gold plating, and Loki inhaled sharply as the magic of the staff, tied into the seiðr of Asgard, reached out with thin filaments that wrapped around his own body’s seiðr, linking him into the power of the king of Asgard. Trying not to shake, he turned to Frigga and she smiled at him with pride. Loki’s gaze slid to Odin, lying prone and helpless by his mother, and the warmth of the staff slipped away. This was too much, he had to get away from them.

Loki turned to the kneeling man who had given him Gungnir, Abjörn, Odin’s personal servant and Royal Steward.

“Abjörn, gather the Lendmenn in Gladsheim, I must speak with them. I… I will be along presently to speak with them.”

“Yes, your majesty,” said Abjörn. Loki felt dizzy, and frightened, at the new form of address, and quickly nodded as Abjörn backed out of the room. He swallowed and glanced back at Frigga.

“Excuse me mother, I… I have a realm to care for.”

Frigga nodded, “I know you will do well Loki.”

Loki all but fled the room, Gungnir clenched in his hands. As he strode through Valaskjálf Palace, moving from the deep centre of the huge building towards the Eastern Wing where the Royal Family lived, the einherjar lining the corridors knelt to him. Loki couldn’t decide if he should ignore it or acknowledge each one of them, so he just kept walking, trying to hide his anxious frown.

The Eastern Wing was where the chambers of the Royal Family were housed. Loki’s chambers were near the top, soaring high above the city and giving him a glorious view of land and sky. Below his were Frigga’s chambers, where she dressed and attended to her queenly duties. Beneath hers were Odin’s chambers, where he normally slept with his wife, but they were deemed unsecure during the vulnerable Odinsleep. Thor’s were the lowest of the four, he liked to be close to the Feasting Halls and Fire Hall, and the people in general. Loki entered the private conveyor which shot upwards towards his floor, mercifully alone for a moment. He clung to Gungnir tight as the floors flew past him in flashed of bright light, and refused to think about what had just happened, preferring to remember a day when he and Thor had spent a day just going up and down this conveyor instead of going to their lessons. The memory just made him ache now.

The conveyor came to a gentle stop and Loki stepped out onto his floor. Normally the corridor was empty save for the occasional cleaning servant. Today it was lined with einherjar, all of whom knelt as soon as he appeared. Loki paused and acknowledged Abjörn was very efficient at his organisation duties. He swallowed hard and kept walking, head held up as he went to his chambers. The doors recognised him and opened smoothly. Loki walked inside and managed to stay calm until the door shut behind him with a boom that made him jump. Gungnir fell to the floor with a clatter and his hands trembled before him. Not two hours ago these hands had been blue and etched with Frost Giant markings, and now these hands held Asgard in their grip, honour bound to protect it.

Loki felt his chin wobble pathetically as tears stung his eyes. This was all wrong, Loki had only wanted to delay Thor’s coronation, to show that Thor needed more time to mature. He hadn’t wanted war, banishment and the throne in his possession.

Although, he realised with a slightly hysterical giggle, if Thor had not been banished, he still would have been made king this day once Odin fell into sleep. So really, this was the only way to protect Asgard from Thor’s oafish rule.

That didn’t mean Loki was a better choice right now! How could his mother expect this of him when he had just learned he was a monstrous Frost Giant? Worse, he was an abandoned runt of the Frost Giants. The scum of scum. Did she really think her words of Odin having a purpose for all he did was enough for Loki? Odin had done plenty for reasons Loki had never forgiven him for, that did not explain a thing, it did not justify anything.   

Loki’s head fell forwards and his fingers sank into his hair as his breathing started to come in sharp bursts. He was a Jötun. But he had to be a king. Asgard needed a king, but it had never wanted a king in the form of Loki. They wanted Thor, golden, bright and loveable, not secretive, quiet, sneaky Loki. The realm was probably expecting him to talk them straight into trouble and never once would they consider that he could talk them out of it.

Loki was used to keeping his own counsel, no one really listened unless he spoke at the right time, but right now he had no idea what to do. The court would fight his every decision, certain he was out for trouble, and they were on the verge of war with Jötunheim –which was admittedly somewhat his fault –so Asgard needed complete stability.

Stability from him, the self-declared God of Mischief and Chaos. The idea was laughable.

Loki inhaled deeply, trying to force his breathing to ease. He pulled his hands from his hair and a sob rose up in his chest, but he refused to let it out. He had a limited amount of time to gather himself and it was not enough to have a full blown panic attack. Besides, it was unbecoming of a king to sob like a child.

Loki rubbed at his mouth as he walked into his bed chamber, thinking about what Odin had told him. Why had he been left to die? Because he was too small? Loki towered over most Aesir, and for all he knew, he was not done growing by Jötun standards, he knew nothing about their biology. Besides, he had met Laufey and he was no great stature among his guards. What had been so repugnant about Loki that he was condemned to die before his life had barely begun?

At least now he understood why he had never been able to match up to Thor, Odin’s natural child. Odin could protest all he wanted, but he would never have allowed a Frost Giant sit upon his precious throne. And now, ironically, there was no choice. A Frost Giant had to sit on the throne or the kingdom would be in danger. Loki had to keep the people who had raised him from fighting with the people who had spawned him. And absolutely none of them wanted anything to do with him. Loki let out a sound that attempted to be indignant and offended, but it caught in his throat and came out as a sob. He covered his face with his hands and swallowed the sobs. He felt too warm and his breathing was ragged as he struggled to catch it. He ripped off his long jacket and his shirt, throwing them away as he tried to stop the anger consuming him. His eyes roamed around his bright bedchamber and fell on the full length mirror in the corner. The glass appeared frosted over and for a second his heart stopped as he looked around for the invading Frost Giant that had done that. Then he remembered himself and shook his head, going to the mirror. The lack of reflection was a message, a call for his attention. Loki brushed his fingers across the X-shaped symbol carved into the frame and whispered,

“Sigyn. Sigyn I need you.”

There was a long pause, during which he leaned on the frame, brow almost touching the opaque glass. He prayed he had not been heard by her ladies. Then the mirror shimmered and a voice called,

“Stand back, I’m coming through.”

Loki relaxed and stepped back. A hand emerged through the shimmering glass and Loki caught it, helping Sigyn through the mirror. She was in her nightdress, the low-cut one that usually distracted Loki from everything, and her cream coloured hair was in disarray.

“I woke you,” he stated, not at all apologetic as he took her hands. He was far too relieved that she had been in her bedchambers, trying to reach him.    

“I was awake,” Sigyn said, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and kissing him. “I was hoping you’d answer my message, I was so worried about you.” She cupped his cheek and examined his face, furrowing her brow in concern, “What’s happened? You look so pale. I haven’t seen you like this since… Is it the Frost Giants? Have they declared war after their infiltration of the Vault? How did they get in? Has Thor done something stupid?”

Loki reached up and cupped her face, smoothing his thumbs over her lips to gently silence her as he tried to think. Now she was here, he wanted to pretend nothing had happened, but he knew he could not. He had to tell her the truth. Anyone else he would not care, but Sigyn deserved to know what she had bedded. Taking in a trembling breath, Loki rested his head on her shoulder, pushing her hair out of the way and inhaling her scent. “Something has happened and now I am King of Asgard.”

To her credit, Sigyn did nothing but tighten her arms around him. “How?”

Loki lifted his head and looked at her straight in his eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, then leaned in and kissed her hungrily, knowing that once he spoke, he would never get to kiss her again. He turned them around, one hand working into her hair and backed her up into the nearest post on his bed. His hands slid down the slope of her shoulders, skimming her chest to hold her at the waist. Sigyn moaned quietly and grabbed at his hair, shifting so their bodies were pressed tight against each other.

“Mmmm… your majesty,” Sigyn purred when they pulled apart. “Do you really think you can distract me like that?”

Loki blinked in surprise, then chuckled and gently bumped his brow against hers. “Oh no. Never. But I’m afraid… you’re going to be angry when I tell you about what else has happened.”

“I’ve been angry before and we’ve dealt with it. Why would this be any different?”

Loki swallowed, “Thor has been banished, that is why I am king. Odin fell into the Odinsleep. And… and I am not sure I can handle this.”

He cursed himself for being a coward. Sigyn looked at him in shock and confusion,

“Thor has been banished? Odin actually cast his heir out? Where to? Why did he –wait! Why would that anger me?”

“Because I don’t want this responsibility!” Loki burst out, “Because I’m a coward. I’m afraid that I cannot handle this, it’s too much, I never wanted this! I never wanted this!”

Sigyn shushed him softly, catching his head in her hands and trying to calm him down.

“Loki, look at me.”

Loki’s eyes snapped up to meet hers, her bright amber eyes boring into him. Loki shouted at himself to tell Sigyn the truth; that he was Jötun and he was so afraid of losing her. Sigyn’s eyes scrutinised him for a moment, and then she said,

“Whatever you are really hiding from me, I expect you to tell me in time. If you fear it will cost you my love, I need to know what it is so I can correct you. Now, tell me how Thor came to be banished. And no, you can’t keep anything from me,” She smirked, “I am your wife, you have no secrets from me.”

Loki smiled in faint amusement. Anyone else could make that claim and they would be wrong, but with Sigyn it was true. Loki had no secrets from her, she knew him more intimately than any other person in the Nine Realms. No one else could read through his lies like she did. Any secrets were ones they kept together. Like the fact that they were married. That was a secret neither of them wanted exposed the wrong way.

Sigyn stroked his hair and kissed him soothingly,

“Come here and talk to me.” She sat on Loki’s bed and encouraged him to lie on his back with his head in her lap. Her fingers slipped under his scalp and began to massage, coaxing him to relax. Loki hummed with pleasure as she dug at the tendons in his neck, gently undoing the knots.  

“So,” Sigyn prompted, “The coronation was cancelled because of an invasion of Frost Giants and the dignitaries from the other realms, including myself, were harried back to our realms without much explanation. Let us start there.”

Loki groaned. “Must we?”

Sigyn gave him a pinch to the scalp and he yelped, “Ow! Alright, Thor was unhappy about the Frost Giants, they spoiled his coronation day and then when he wanted to retaliate, father cancelled the coronation because he didn’t think Thor was ready.”

“Well he isn’t,” Sigyn snorted. Loki smiled, relaxing again.

“I… may have led him to the conclusion that going to Jötunheim was a good idea. And… I was also the one who let the Frost Giants in in the first place.”

Sigyn took a moment to process the information. “I… see.”

Loki waited, unwilling to continue until she spoke. Finally, she said slowly,

“Loki… I have never been against your love for mischief. It’s a part of why I love you. And… I do not mind when you seek just to cause a bit of chaos. However… if you do not explain your actions adequately very quickly I’m going to be furious with you.”

Loki’s hand snapped up and grabbed her wrist, as if that would make her stay, blurting out, “I was worried about Thor’s abilities as a king. He’s reckless and arrogant, but no one would believe me if I talked about it. So I had to show them.”

“So you let the Frost Giants in with the sole purpose of ruining Thor’s big day, so that you could trick him into doing something so momentously stupid that he got himself banished?”

“… well I did not intend for him to be banished. But, more or less, yes.” Loki offered her a weak grin. Sigyn let out a huffy sound as she looked at the wall, still massaging Loki’s scalp. If she kept it up, he would probably fall asleep.

“So, in essence, it was a usual game of yours that got even more out of hand than usual.”

“Uh. Yes. That’s about it.”

Sigyn sighed and shook her head, “You’re as much of a fool as Thor, just in a different way. Asgard is utterly doomed.”

Loki winced, “That’s comforting Sigyn, really.”

“Don’t talk. I’m thinking.”

Loki obliged, remaining silent and growing sleepy under her hands. In Sigyn’s lap it was easy to pretend he had not heard those awful truths from his father, had not been handed the Gungnir in the darkness of his father’s chambers as the last resort. Here he felt certain of his place and of being loved. At least with Sigyn, he knew if he disappointed her, she would not stop loving him, she would just demand he do something to make up for it.

“All right, this is what will happen,” Sigyn announced. Loki blinked up at her blearily. She had that stern expression on her face that he loved getting rid of with kisses and teasing. “You will rule Asgard until your father comes back from his Odinsleep in a day or so. Then you will tell him what you did, and accept his punishment. If you do well, he’ll be angry, but will also be proud. That means he’ll hopefully give you a punishment of the Thor kind, rather than the Loki kind.”

“You mean I’ll be punished allowed to reclaim my honour through it rather than being humiliated?”

Sigyn nodded, “Exactly.”

“And there is no way I can get out of telling him?”

Sigyn shook her head, frowning, “Not that I can think of. Your actions got two guards killed. I’m more distressed by that.”

“Hmm… I should make sure their families are given a proper wergild.”

“Out of your fortune, not the Royal Treasury.”

“Why do you even care? You have little love for the Aesir.”

“Because my husband,” Sigyn bent down and kissed his brow, “Whatever happens here with Odin and Thor, you will be my Prince Consort in Vanaheim when the time comes, and I won’t have you acting like people’s lives can be thrown away.”

Loki stroked her cheek from the awkward angle, smiling slightly, “I really should tell father I married you, he’ll probably decide you’re the perfect influence on me.”

“Hmmm… one thing at a time my love.”

Loki saw the turning down of her mouth and stroked her cheek again, “Sigyn… we will be married in the eyes of Asgard and Vanaheim one day, not just in private. And then we will have a home together, and have as many children as you want. I promise, we will manage it one day, even if I have to tell Odin I’ve been sleeping with you for centuries and let him kill me for it.”

Sigyn nodded, “I know. I just wish we could be that now. I hate hiding. Odin’s not even the problem, it’s my parents, my realm, that stand in our way –if your parents were really determined about a marriage with me they’d have pushed my betrothal to Thor. My people just expect me to be a good and proper princess and not have any desires or longing or-”

Loki gently shushed her, “We’ll figure it out. Maybe this our chance. Once Jötunheim is dealt with by father, I will still be the Crown Prince and his heir until Thor returns.”

“Wait, so Thor isn’t banished forever?” Sigyn asked in confusion. Loki paused and thought about it. When it had happened Loki had been shocked, unable to look at Odin as he had been ordered back to Valaskjálf. Then he had been reeling from everything that had happened, his skin colour change, Thor’s banishment, then the truth of his race and Odin collapsing. It was only when Frigga had said to hope for Thor’s return that he had even realised that it was possible.  

“Odin threw Mjölnir through the Bifrost after Thor. Why would he do that if he didn’t want Thor to have a chance to return?”

“What do you think Thor must do to return home?”

“I don’t know, he acted the way he always does, but this time it wasn’t acceptable.”

“You knew he would be in trouble,” said Sigyn removing her hands and resting them on the bed as she looked down at him.

“I hoped only that he would demonstrate his immaturity, not to start a war over something as stupid as being called ‘little princess’.”

“Oh, what a terrible insult,” sneered Sigyn. Loki flashed her a grin, “So, he did… what exactly in response?”

Loki grimaced, “He slaughtered about two hundred.”

Sigyn’s face lost any humour it might have had. “What?”

Loki sat up and reached for her, “Sigyn, I need you to help me now, not think about Thor. As much as I love him, there is nothing to be done about him right now.”

Sigyn looked furious, but nodded, taking his hands. “Alright, but answer me this, did you provoke Thor into fighting on Jötunheim in any way?”

Loki shook his head, “I tried to slow us down, but Heimdall just let us pass, and then I tried to talk us out, but then that Jötun scum made a stupid remark and Thor started fighting them.”

Sigyn leaned in so they were eye to eye, “Then you deserve that throne more than Thor ever will.”

Loki’s stomach gave a nervous twist and he looked down, “Do you think I can handle this?”

Sigyn bent her neck to kiss him. “Of course I do. You just need to put aside something for the betterment of all. Forget what you have done to cause Thor’s banishment, because it does not matter right now.  He is gone, and you are here and you are still Asgard’s prince and for now you are its king.”

“The court will hate this. The Warriors Three will hate this –and I don’t even want to think about Sif’s reaction.”

“I do,” Sigyn smirked, “That pompous bitch could do with a surprise or two.”

Loki hid a grin at her words, but quickly sobered,

“It will look like I am usurping the throne. It was all done in the darkness of father’s bedchamber, unlike if it were Thor, where it would have been celebrated with a grand coronation. It will look like I got Thor banished and made Odin sleep so I could take the throne.”

“That’s ridiculous, you may be powerful but they can’t think you could harm Odin like that. Why has Frigga not spoken to the council, why hasn’t she presented you with Gungnir in front of everyone?”

“She is afraid for father. She believes this Odinsleep is different. She will not leave his side until he awakens, and she fears it will be… she fears he may not awaken.”

Sigyn drew in a deep breath, resting her brow on his. “Oh Loki… I am so sorry. You may have lost both your brother and your father in one day.”

_‘I already have lost them.’_ Loki thought to himself, closing his eyes. He stirred when Sigyn kissed his eyelids carefully and then murmured against his brow,

“Listen to me Loki, you can do this. You know politics better than Thor, you were raised to be the Chief Lendr Maðr of Asgard, the only difference now is that you get to decide what to do, instead of just hoping you’ll be heard. All you have to do is resist the urge to cause mischief. Prove to the court, to your father, that you can do this most challenging of tasks, and I promise you, they will see you for the great man that I know you are.”

“And if I fail?”

“The only way you can fail in my eyes is by not trying.”

Loki inhaled deeply and opened his eyes. He reached up and skimmed two fingertips along her jaw. Sigyn met his eyes and Loki leaned in to press a soft kiss on her lips. She let him take his time with the kiss, slowly deepening it as his fingertips slid down her neck to push at the strap of her nightgown, pushing it over her shoulder and trailing down the skin he exposed, spreading his hand over her breast. She hummed, then reached up and caught his hand.

“Loki, we don’t have time right now. You probably have to be somewhere, don’t you?”

Loki groaned in frustration, “Yes, the council needs to know what has happened. I need to make a speech about my intentions.”

“Then go and do that. Be a king.” Sigyn cupped his cheek and rested her brow against his, “I’ll be here when you come to bed tonight, and I’ll look after you then.”

Loki swallowed and nodded. He did not want to leave, but he had to. With a great effort, he made himself get off the bed and with a wave of his hand, he was washed and dressed in his best clothes, with his ceremonial helmet. He called Gungnir to his hand and took hold of it. He held it tight and turned to Sigyn.

“How do I look?” he asked, recognising a second too late that Thor had asked him that question only yesterday. It did not shock him that Sigyn gave him the answer he had given Thor.

“Like a king.”

Loki smiled faintly, ignoring the twist in his chest and kissed her one last time before she walked through the mirror and he turned to his chamber doors. He inhaled deeply and then assumed an inscrutable expression. The doors opened and he walked out to do what he had to. 


	2. Speaking Their Language

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki has to win over Odin's animals and his men.

Before he went to meet with his father’s, no _his_ , advisors, Loki went into a small chamber next to the throne room. Here was where Odin’s loyal animal companions, they were far too intelligent and independent to be called pets, were kept. The wolves Geri and Freki lifted their heads to look at him with their sharp blue eyes as he entered the room. Geri bared his teeth at Loki, and for once Loki did not care, because he finally knew what Geri did not like about him. He was not overly fond of the reason himself.

“Greetings great hounds,” he said, smirking when their eyes fell on the staff and he knew they were putting pieces together in their minds. “Black roamers,” he added to Huginn and Muninn, the two huge ravens that stood on their perches. He set Gungnir against the wall, “I bring news.”

Loki knew the animals could understand him, but he decided to speak to them in a manner they were more accustomed to. With a narrowing of his eyes being the only indication of effort, Loki shifted his body into the shape of a wolf, black as his own hair. He blinked hard to get used to the sudden loss of colour in his vision as he approached the animals. Geri’s ears flattened against his head and he bared his teeth even further, growling.

“No closer cold one. Alpha come close only.”

Loki kept his body straight and tall, lifting his tail. “Cold one is Alpha now,” he replied, advancing on the other wolf.

“Alpha carries stick,” Freki said, far less aggressive, but just as wary. “Cold one carries stick now.”

“Where is Alpha?” Geri demanded.

“Ill.” Loki relaxed his body and sat on his rump, mindful of having a tail. “As his… pup, I am Alpha now.”

Geri growled and advanced on Loki, “Lies!”

“Truth!”

Loki and Geri looked up in surprise at the Ravens –and Loki suddenly wanted to eat them –and Huginn spread his wings and fluttered down to be on the floor with them.

“Little chick says true,” Huginn stated, folding his wings. “Grand flier has head tucked under wing, and may never look to sky again.”

“Where is strong pup? He is dominant, he should be Alpha now, not cold runt,” Geri demanded.

Loki could not help himself. To be called a runt by a wolf was just too much, and he got to his four paws and snapped his jaws at Geri, teeth bared at him. “Not runt! Alpha! Not runt!”

Geri was not intimidated and barked at him, “Runt! Not dominant! Not worthy!”

Loki’s hackles raised and he advanced on Geri, but Huginn squawked at them and snapped his wings so he was between them.

“Battle irrelevant. If Grand flier and Golden chick have head under wing, little chick has nest. No choice. No battle.”

Freki’s ears flattened against his head and he raised a paw in submission to Geri. “Cold runt must be Alpha now. No other pup to do it.”

Loki forced his temper down and pulled his lips over his teeth, “No other pup,” he agreed irritably.

Geri growled, but stepped back and began to pace. “Not good.”

“I come to play, not fight,” said Loki, perking his ears forward. “I wish friend, not enemy, in you.”

Geri paused in his pacing, “Explain?”

“You loyal to den. I loyal to den.”

A grumbling agreement was his answer. Loki started to pace, eyes falling on Gungnir as he turned.

“Den in danger. Cold ones coming. Must defend.”

“Must defend,” the animals all repeated like a response to a prayer. Loki could not smirk, but his tail flicked in triumph.

“Good. All agreed. I am Alpha now so den is defended.”

“Sneaky runt not good defender,” growled Geri. Loki growled, but held most of the sound back. He turned and faced the two wolves approaching with tail raised. Both wolves tensed and their hackles began to rise. Then Loki flattened his ears, and held out a paw.

“Not fight. Need you for defence. We are pack now. Must work together.”

Muninn hopped on the golden stand and stretched his wings. “Pack is defending den all times.”

Freki sat on his haunches in thought. Finally he said,

“Only pup left of Alpha. Pup must prove dominance. No submission.”

Loki dropped his paw, and took on a dominant stance, tail stiff and fluffed, his eyes wide. He advanced on Freki and draped his head over Freki’s neck. “Like this?”

Freki relaxed in approval. “Good runt.”

Loki nipped his neck in reproach, “Not runt. Alpha!”

Freki dropped his tail in submission, “Alpha,” he agreed. Loki’s eyes fell on Geri, who was stiff and angry, but finally, he lifted a regal paw in agreement.

“Alpha. Not runt.”

Loki could not stop his tail from wagging with delight as Freki licked his lower jaw as a final promise of submission. Then he looked at the ravens, who simply stood on their stands and dipped their beaks to him.

“Little chick is flying high to defend nest,” Muninn said lowly. Loki let out a snort, which sounded more like a sneeze and growled,

“Fly high indeed.”

He turned away and gave his body a small shake returning to his Aesir form –which he could no longer call his true form. He strode on two legs to Gungnir and took hold of it again. He turned to the animals.

“Geri, Freki, come,” he called. The wolves regarded him for a moment, but then they moved to him and followed him out of the room and down the corridor. Loki hid a smirk when a few guards boggled at the sight of Odin’s wolves following the younger prince as if he were Odin. Loki made his way to Gladsheim Hall and the door was opened for him. He strode in and refused to break pace when he saw the council waiting for him at the foot of the throne. It was on his lips to apologise for his delaying them, but he did not, because kings do not apologise.

“My good lendmenn, I am glad to see you all here,” he said instead. “We have much to deal with until Odin awakens from his sleep.” He ascended the stairs and sat down on the throne, Hlidskialf, as if he did it every day, instead of allowing his nerves to make his legs buckle underneath him. The throne was just slightly too short for him, forcing his legs to bend awkwardly. Geri and Freki sat on their haunches on either side of him, their blue eyes passing over the seven men. He sat back into the throne, refusing to perch as if Odin might chase him out at any moment. He shifted his grip on the Gungnir and lifted his chin,

“I know we may not be in this situation for very long, but you know that the first order of the court is to swear loyalty to me as the king, until Odin awakes.” Loki made no mention of Frigga’s worries about Odin, it would look suspicious. “So, shall we begin?”

The men slowly formed a line in front of him and Loki assessed each man as he clasped his fist to his heart and knelt to him, swearing his loyalty. The council of Asgard consisted of seven men of noble blood, and were known as the Lendmenn and addressed individually as Lendr maðr as such by the court. They were tasked with the practical applications of ruling the realm, under the orders of the king. They were the most powerful men of non-royal blood in Asgard.

First there was Lendr Maðr Delling Jörmunsson, a man of stability and routine. He was loyal and dependable, but he was also mistrustful of change. Loki would need to prove himself an Odinson to keep him happy. He was broad and cheerful, with fire-red hair and a stocky body rather like Volstagg.

Next was Lendr Maðr Kvasir Honisson. He was Loki’s old tutor and this was both an advantage and a disadvantage because Kvasir knew him so well he knew Loki was not by nature malicious, but he did know he loved his pranks and tricks, and would be wary of what he might try with his new power. Kvasir was small, almost like a boy in shape, but he was as old as Odin. Loki had been friends with his son, Sverrir, since childhood. Kvasir had begun his life as a commoner, a farmer boy who had shown an aptitude for seiðr wielding that had attracted Odin. The more ‘pure-blooded’ nobles had never let him forget where he came from.

After Kvasir was Lendr Maðr Tyr Hymisson. He was a great master of war and Loki had learned most of his fighting from him, even if they had clashed over issues of honourable fighting. Loki would need him to deal with Jötunheim. Tyr was Thor’s personal hero and that included his grooming style, Tyr had long brown hair and a short beard, with a strong, broad body. He was also Sif’s favourite uncle, whom she revered as her guide to being a true warrior, and who had taught her to mistrust Loki, as much as Loki had taught her himself.  

Lendr Maðr Bragi Boddasson swore his oath, and Loki smiled at the sound of his voice. Bragi was a gifted singer, and he seemed to sing everything he said. He was light on his feet and pale as a Ljósálfar. At the moment he looked shocked and exhausted, he had been the chief organiser of Thor’s coronation with Abjörn. It should have been his greatest display of Asgard’s opulence, majesty and to glorify Thor. So much for that. Despite being far older than Odin, he never looked older than a man in his early prime thanks to his wife, Idunn, the woman who tended the orchards of golden apples that kept the Aesir in good health. This man had helped rule and celebrate Asgard since before Odin’s father Bor had been more than a child. He had an appropriately long memory.

Lendr Maðr Hoder Hothbrodarson was blind and broad, suspicious and irritable. His wife was Eir, the head healer of Asgard, who had nursed Loki and Thor through every sniffle and injury they had ever had.  Hoder had been blind since birth, it meant that he was not impressed by the visual displays of might that most of Asgard loved. He liked Loki, who could entertain him with words and seiðr.

Lendr Maðr Freyr SvafrÞorinson was well reputed to be the most beautiful man in Asgard, along with his beautiful twin sister Freyja. Freyr was a Vanir, sent to Asgard as a hostage after the Aesir-Vanir War but he had been absorbed into Asgard so well, and it had been so long ago, few remembered it. Except for Sigyn, she always remembered this and sneered about Freyr’s easily swayed loyalties. Loki would do well to remember her words now.

And finally there was Chief Lendr Maðr Forseti Baldsson. He was the one Odin had tasked with handing out law where Odin could not. Forseti hated Loki with a passion because Loki made it his business to get around laws. He may also have hated Loki because as the second prince Loki was set to replace him as Chief Lendr Maðr . He was grey-haired and grey eyed, with a stern mouth.

After Forseti swore his loyalty to Loki, Loki smiled faintly and banged Gungnir on the floor to complete the oath,

“As you have sworn loyalty to me as your king, so I, Loki Odinson, swear to you that I will be loyal to Asgard and to you and will do what I must to defend and guide it.”

Gungnir glowed faintly as the oaths took on magical binding. The council were the only ones who were bound by this seiðr to serve Loki. Everyone else could turn traitor without magical consequences. Loki relaxed a little,

“Now, my lendmenn. Let us discuss what we can do about Jötunheim to avoid any more bloodshed on either side.”

The lendmenn looked at each other and a distinct awkwardness fell in the Gladsheim Hall. Loki arched an eyebrow at them, although he was already rolling his eyes in his mind. He could easily figure where this was going.

“My… king,” said Kvasir carefully. “We would ask that you rescind Prince Thor’s banishment. We will need the prince’s skill in battle to defend ourselves from the Jötnar.”

Loki wanted to snap at him but held himself still, knowing that, whatever else, Kvasir wanted what was best for Asgard. If he thought that was Thor, then very well, he could make his argument, but Loki was perfectly prepared with an answer.

“I understand why you wish Thor to be returned to us. Believe me, whatever happens between myself and Thor, he is still my brother and I still love him. I would like nothing more than for him to be returned to us, if only so I know he is safe.”

Wary hope crossed most of the men’s faces, except for Kvasir and Forseti, who were expressionless. Loki sighed heavily,

“Yet, I cannot undo Odin’s magic. I believe he has set Thor on a task, and once Thor has completed it, I believe the spell will be lifted. Otherwise he would never have thrown Mjölnir after him.”

Odin would never throw away his darling boy forever, of that Loki was sure. Especially if he was the only biological one.

“It is up to Thor to find a way home to us. I cannot undo the magic Odin wielded. And I will not attempt it because it will be both futile, and a back action politically. I will not have people thinking I will undo my predecessor’s decrees the day I sit on the throne. It will reek of a fractured court and an uncertainty of purpose.”

“You would abandon your brother?” demanded Tyr. Loki tensed.

“I will never abandon him, even now I am trying to see him from this throne. But the fact remains, Thor is banished, I cannot undo it, and what’s more, I don’t think he would be of any use to the current situation considering he is the one who began it. Or have you all set that fact from your minds? We are on the brink of war with Jötunheim because Thor acted like a fool and we may have to pay the price.”

Loki stood up. He did not pace, only stood above these men he had studied so carefully over the years. As he stood, Delling and Bragi’s eyes widened in surprise and Loki could almost read their thoughts, _‘When did he get so tall?’_. People seemed to forget that Loki was in fact quite tall, because Thor forever stood above him. His helmet certainly added to it. Sigyn had asked if he was compensating for something else when he first showed her the golden horns. Loki had shown her he had nothing to compensate for.

“Odin was clear, war is not acceptable if peace can be brokered. Therefore, we shall follow that course, and I don’t think Thor would make the Jötnar very agreeable, and pretending he has done nothing wrong after he killed hundreds of them only yesterday will certainly enrage Laufey. We do not wish to exacerbate the situation, do we?”

He raised his eyebrows at the men, waiting for one of them to answer. He needed to know what they sought, peace or war. Peace could be achieved with words, his strength, but not war. War was Thor’s domain, when he wasn’t acting like a child.

Tyr stepped up, “The Aesir will defend their home until they all fall!”

Loki smiled slightly, while rolling his eyes inside again, “Admirable sentiment Lendr Maðr Tyr. Utterly useless as a practical offer, and not an answer to my question.”

Tyr coloured with rage. Loki stepped forward, standing on the edge of the first step and spreading his free arm, looking down at them. 

“It is a simple question. Do you want war or not?”

Kvasir shook his head, “No, your majesty, I do not.”

Bragi lifted his head, “As glorious as it is that war would allow me to compose new songs, the cost of life would not be worthwhile.”

“Lendr Maðr Tyr?” Loki prompted, knowing Tyr would be the one he would have to work with if they did go to war. Tyr fumed for a moment, but then lowered his eyes,

“I strive for peace, your majesty.”

Loki was going to pay for his actions as king whatever he actually did once Odin woke up. He might as well make the most of it.

“Good. Our focus shall be peace and defence. Therefore I shall have Heimdall close the Bifrost for the time being. Lendr Maðr Kvasir I want you to seek out any ways that the Frost Giants could have gotten into Asgard without the Bifrost. I want to know about them, but do not seal them just yet.”

“My king?” Kvasir gave him a look that was verging on a stern warning. Loki smirked,

“I simply wish to examine them for myself. If they are natural or made by seiðrmaðr hands. I’ve never heard of Jötnar being capable of such seiðr.”

“Nor have I, your majesty.”

Loki really wanted to preen every time someone called him that, it made him feel like a giddy boy, but he held himself together.

“Are you hoping that the Jötnar will just stay in their homes after what happened yesterday? It is not in their nature! They will thirst for blood. That is how monsters act,” cried Tyr, eyes burning with anger.

Loki squeezed Gungnir tight, shock at the blunt words that now applied to him shooting through his spine. But he kept his expression calm.

“I have no intention of making them wait and grow irritable. I will offer them a wergild.”

“A wergild!” demanded Delling, “That is ridiculous Loki!”

Loki’s face hardened and he stared down at Delling. Delling paled as he realised his error and he said,

“I apologise, your majesty, but a wergild to those monsters?”

Loki sighed, “It is a way to avoid a war. What is ridiculous about that?”

“They will never accept it,” said Freyr quietly.

“I am willing to offer it anyway, not out of weakness or fear, but because I know this realm’s history and I know how much life was lost in the last war. I would rather such a disaster did not befall us. If they refuse we will take the situation to the next level.”

“Acts of war are not paid by wergild,” said Delling shortly. Loki stepped forward, stepping down as he barked,

“So you would have Thor’s actions be taken as a declaration of war? That Asgard is so arrogant that they declare war on a weaker nation for the amusement of its prince?”

“But if we offer a wergild, all of Thor’s actions will be declared murder,” Kvasir said. Loki paused to consider this. It was true, by acknowledging that the Jötnar were people worthy of wergild instead of monsters that must be killed, Thor would have to be acknowledged as a killer, not just a warrior. Loki did not want to condemn his brother in such a manner, no matter his own anger and frustration with him.

“Do you have an alternative Lendr Maðr Kvasir?” he asked carefully. If he gave up his own plans, it would not look good, because he would appear to be easily controlled.

Kvasir tugged at his sleeve in thought. He did not answer at once and Loki grew impatient,

“Do you at least agree it would probably bring the Jötnar to the table? Allow us to open a dialogue with Laufey and give us a chance of coming to a compromise. We need not offer a wergild in name, but some form of compensation that is not in blood. That way we can avoid a war.”

“A king should not be afraid of war,” muttered Tyr to Forseti. Loki heard him and slammed down Gungnir in a temper.

“A wise king must always be ready for war. But he never seeks it out,” He snapped. “I am willing to fight a war for Asgard, but not before I have exhausted all other options.”

“You speak as if King Odin will not awaken soon,” Freyr murmured. Loki felt his mouth go dry, then quickly said,

“I do not intend it. What I intend is to emphasise that I will not do anything while I sit upon the throne to bring war upon our heads. If Odin wakes tomorrow, I will give up my seat knowing I did not seek to monger war.”

There was a silence as the men regarded him and for a split second, Loki saw himself as they did. A frightened boy, without guiding hand of father or elder (better) brother, or even mother, who had no idea what he was doing and making it up as he went along. He burned at the image and returned to the throne, sitting down, determined not to get up again in this meeting.

“I will seek peace for as long as I can, and if it is only for a single day, then I will call that a victory. Maybe not a victory worthy of Valhalla but a victory nonetheless. Now… do any of you have anything to offer besides biased objections?”

All the men frowned at the word biased, clearly wondering if Loki meant they were biased in a desire for war, or if he was accusing them of being biased against him. Loki allowed his lips to curve up slightly, in a not quite smile.

“We… we would bide our time for now, before taking too rash an action,” Kvasir said carefully, “Let Heimdall watch the Jötnar and see what actions they take. I shall do as you suggested, in that I shall seek out any and all portals I can between Asgard and Jötunheim.”

A ploy to make him feel they were listening to him, when they were just delaying until Odin woke up. Loki wanted to call his tutor on it, but instead, he nodded,

“Very well, with the Bifrost closed and your wisdom seeking out any other doorways, we shall be safe for the moment.”

It was not a victory for either of them, but Loki could play games until the end of time and he knew he would out last them all for patience. So he instead relaxed back and said,

“Is there any further business?”

“Yes my king. The cancelation of the coronation has caused some… upset among the guests from the other realms. Alfheim in particular. They feel they were not treated with appropriate courtesy at the time.”

Loki tapped his fingers against the staff thoughtfully, “They were sent home?”

“No, they… the queen refused to leave until she was treated with due respect.”

Loki allowed one side of his lips to curl upwards. “Then by all means, send them to me. I will gladly make apologies to them myself.”

Thrown, the courtiers looked amongst themselves. “You… my king?”

The real question was ‘You… Loki?’. Loki restrained a frustrated sigh. With Thor demanding attention just by breathing, people forgot that Loki was actually capable of conversation that did not involve lies and tricks.

“Yes, me.” He almost got to his feet again, but held still with some effort. “When Odin wakes, I will be his heir until Thor returns. When Thor is king, I will be his chief advisor. All roles I could fill require me to be in communication with the leaders of the other Realms, both allies and enemy. I am certain Banríon Aetril will be quite satisfied with my apologies when I am done. But before that, is there anything else?”

“Nothing of importance, just the usual running of the court that your father entrusted to us.”

Loki nodded, “Then I shall entrust them to you as well. If that is all you have?”

They nodded and knelt to him. And wasn’t that quite intoxicating? Having these men kneel at his feet. They did not know he was a Jötun runt. They would never have knelt then. Most of them did not like him, but all would respect the king. Loki forced himself not to preen as he said,

“Good, then have Banríon Aetril meet me in the gardens, where I shall make a proper apology. Go and attend to your duties, and then rest. A sleepless night will do none of us any good, and it has been a trying few days.”

They bowed their heads and left, some looking back in what appeared to be confusion. Loki did not show anything until they were gone. Then he let out a breath and leaned his head back for a moment. Once he eased the tightness in his chest, he opened his eyes and accessed the power of Hlidskialf to allow him to see Thor and ensure he was all right.


	3. Untrue Friends, Unfailing Wife

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sif and the Warriors Three confront Loki, and Loki deals with a political mishap.

Finding Thor was hard, the seiðr of Hliðskjálf was unfamiliar and strong. Loki got lost in trying to see. It was unwieldy and needed delicacy that Loki would need time to learn to manage. Every time he tried to get closer to Midgard the smallest twitch would send him reeling across the universe until he felt dizzy and sick. Every time he would have to ease his way back. He was just breaching Midgard’s atmosphere when Gladsheim’s doors opened again and admitted the Warriors Three and Sif. Loki did not move, oh no, he would not miss this moment for the world! Sif was leading the charge of course, declaring,  

“Allfather, we must speak with you urgently!”

Their heads were down in automatic bows, so they did not realise to whom they were bowing for a moment. Then they looked up and saw him, and Loki was quite sure he cracked a rib as he suppressed a laugh at the looks on their faces. He dearly wished for a Midgardian camera.

Volstagg’s mouth worked silently for a moment before he blurted, “What is this?”

There was a faint horror in Volstagg’s voice, as if he thought himself in a nightmare. At once all of Loki’s amusement fled and there was only anger, he knew what they were thinking and what they wanted. Still he kept it hidden as he said in heavy voice, “My _friends_...”

They approached him slowly, as if he were a dangerous beast. Fandral’s eyes flicked to Geri and Freki, taking in their regal and silent stance carefully before asking, “Where is Odin?

Loki swallowed, his unease too strong to cover completely, “Father has fallen into the Odinsleep. Mother fears he may never awaken again.”

Sif stepped forward, her dark eyes burning as she stared up at him defiantly.

“We would speak with her.” She spoke as if he were just an irritation, a nuisance. Loki’s eyes ran over her dark hair and he was very glad he had tried to please Sigyn by changing it from golden to dark. Sigyn had laughed until she had wept and Sif had wept until Thor had come after Loki who had made himself quite scarce until it had all died down. If he had not already been enjoying their shock before, now he was revelling in it as he rose to his feet in the manner Odin did when he wanted to intimidate people. 

“She has refused to leave my father's bedside. You can bring your "urgent" matter to me, your King.”

Gungnir rang through the hall and all four of them looked even more alarmed, realising they had not addressed him properly and that probably was not a good way to get anything from him. They reluctantly pressed their fists to their hearts and knelt before him. Sif’s smile was tense and mocking,

“My king, we would ask you to end Thor's banishment.”

Anger flared to rage before dying down again as Loki gave a disappointed sigh and shook his head. “I shall reiterate to you what I said to the lendmenn. My first command cannot be to undo the All-Father's last. We're on the brink of war with Jötunheim. Our people must have a sense of continuity in order to feel safe in these difficult times. All of us must stand together, for the good of Asgard.”

His logic remained sound as far as he was concerned, but he could see it sat even less well with these four. Then again, that did not surprise him. They were loyal to Thor above all others and would put him before the kingdom, as they had already proven by going with him to Jötunheim. He also had probably put a little too much of his enjoyment into his words, in a rare moment of forgetting himself. He huffed in annoyance at himself, that mistake would take some undoing, because now they were thinking exactly what the council were. _Usurper._

Sif started forward as if to strike him, but Fandral grabbed her arm and said, “Yes of course.”

“Good, then you will wait on my word.”

Volstagg coughed and gave a weakling grin, “If I may, beg the indulgence of your majesty, to perhaps reconsider-”

“We’re done,” Loki cut across him, irritated that they could not see beyond their own egos. His voice rang through the hall and they all visibly shrank from him. No, no that would not do at all, he needed them to be on his side, however loosely, until he knew what to do about them. So he lifted his hand and called as they started to back away,  

“A moment, before you run off to… whatever you do whenever Thor is not around.”

Sif looked like she wanted to punch him. He beckoned them back, stepping down another stair, giving them a more amicable smile, 

“As you know, all the esteemed guests that were attending the coronation were asked to leave until the coronation could be rescheduled. Unfortunately, Banríon Aetril, the Queen of Alfheim, has refused to leave, insisting that she be treated correctly. Since I don’t want a second inter-realm crisis to occur within a day of the first, I would like to reassure her that we meant no offence. And I am quite certain she would be very appreciative of your presence when I go to see her.”

There was a stunned silence then Volstagg stammered, “O-our presence?”

Loki smiled as if he were looking at dear friends, “Of course. It would be excellent for her to meet with you. She is a warrior in her own right and would greatly like to test her skills, against Lady Sif especially.”

Despite herself, Sif looked interested. She clearly still wanted to hit him, but at least he had distracted her.

“And she loves Aesir tales of glory,” he added to the men, throwing in for Fandral, “And so do her maidens.”

The four looked at each other, obviously uneasy, but they stiffened their spines and assumed the standard expression of Aesir warriors, determined and strong.

“We serve the king,” said Fandral, saluting once more. Loki smiled as if he believed them, when in reality he was already counting how long they would take to betray him. It hurt more than he had expected, or wanted it to.

“Excellent! Come, we should not keep her waiting.” He descended the steps and strode past them, knowing they would follow, Geri and Freki leading them. As their footsteps echoed through the hall, Loki felt slightly dizzy with giddiness. This was so much fun!

The gardens of the palace were really the domain of Frigga the All-Mother, Freyja the Lovely Vanir, and Idunn the Grower of Golden Apples. For millennia the three women had nurtured a huge labyrinth of pathways, flower beds and orchards. Fountains gave way to small rivers that flowed through the grass and trees. Calling them gardens really did them a disservice, they were sprawling and varied, with wilder places for children to play games, and refined, delicate places for courting and women’s sewing circles. It was in one of these places, where Frigga often spent her time with her handmaidens when they weren’t weaving tapestries, that a gazebo had been erected next to a giant oak tree. Seated underneath it were the queen and her ladies, sipping wine and basking in the sunlight.

As the standard Aesir was tall, broad and fair, the standard Ljósálfar appearance was pale, small and delicate looking, with wings they could cast illusions to hide. Banríon Aetril, the Queen of Alfheim, was tiny, with silvery wings. Her eyes were pale grey, like steel, and her hair was like sun-stained hay. The top of her head barely reached Loki’s chin, and her waist was slim enough that Thor could probably wrap his hand around it, yet she was a warrior in her own right, and had led armies into battles. As she reclined on a couch with her ladies though, she looked more like a hedonistic goddess than a battle hardened monarch.

“Banríon Aetril!” Loki said as they approached her. “I apologise for the delay in attending to you. As you can see…” he looked Gungnir up and down in his hand and smiled, “Things have been a little chaotic.”

Aetril extended her hand for Loki to kiss, rising to her feet as she replied,

“Of course, I cannot imagine how difficult these past few days have been. From such high hopes to such low results. Yet…” She gave him a dazzling smile and ran a hand over his heart, “I am glad this realm is fortunate enough to have your delightful hands tending to it now.”

Loki forced himself to blush. The queen’s words had no effect on him, he had been flirting with her for centuries, but he knew his companions had low expectations of him when it came to women, so he decided to cater to them.

“For the moment until Odin awakens and resumes his care upon us all,” he replied, covering his heart with his hand and bowing slightly, “Yet I would not have you wait until then, after denying you attention for so long already.”

Ljósálfar had a particular way of speaking that really forced a person to speak every word as if it were coated in honey. Loki was very good at it.

“Any attention from men such as you is gladly welcomed by myself and my ladies.” Aetril stroked his chest, pressing close to him. Loki caught the hand and held it in a light grip as he turned to the others.

“May I present Lady Sif and the Warriors Three, my brother’s most faithful companions and Asgard’s truest warriors.”

Fandral gave Loki an uneasy look, then fixed his most dazzling smile and kissed the queen’s hand, followed by Volstagg and Hogun. Sif bowed deeply to the queen and Aetril clasped her hands together in delight,

“It is an honour to meet you all, your reputations precede you.”

Loki extended his arm back to the gazebo, “Come and lets us have a drink.”

Aetril rested her hand on his forearm, peering up at him through her eyelashes. “Of course, let us forget all troubles for a moment, and give each other comfort.”

Loki laughed and kissed her hand again. “As you command.”

As the wine was poured, Aetril’s attention snapped to Sif at once and she soon was running her hands all over Sif instead as she engaged the other woman in a discussion about combat. Sif was utterly flustered by Aetril’s intimacy but soon began enjoying the discussion itself. Volstagg, Fandral and Hogun quickly found themselves surrounded by Ljósálfar maids, one of whom was so small and dainty that she used her wings to perch on Fandral’s shoulder. When Fandral tentatively touched her bare leg to steady her she simply leaned in closer and Fandral grinned with delight. Even Hogun relaxed as Volstagg led the three in a retelling of one of their adventures, letting a red-winged Ljósálfar sit in his lap. 

Loki snorted to himself as he stepped aside and observed from a short distance away. He knew this was only a temporary reprieve, and the four fools would probably do something reckless soon. And Heimdall… Heimdall would need to be dealt with. Loki was still astonished that Heimdall had just let them go to Jötunheim. It would seem even the great guardian was not immune to injured pride. Yet all of this depended upon Odin remaining asleep. And Loki could not believe that that would happen. If nothing else, Loki wanted answers and he would have them from Odin’s mouth. Tuning back into the conversations, he overheard Aetril saying to Sif,

“I had a new kind of crossbow made for my warriors based on some designs from Midgard. They may be short lived, but it pushes them to develop faster than any other realm.”

“Ah yes, it’s quite a weapon,” said Loki, “A brilliant hunting tool.”

“And you wield it masterfully,” Aetril ran her hands over his, smiling at Sif, “Have you ever seen such regal and deadly hands?”

Sif’s eyes flashed and Loki dearly wanted her to say exactly what she was thinking in that moment. Alas, Sif was not that stupid.

“Loki has proven himself a good warrior in arms,” she said evenly. Loki blinked, and wondered if she even half meant it. He doubted it… but it would have been nice.

“I would imagine being in your arms is quite a pleasure,” Aetril purred at Loki, who barely held back his laughter. By their very nature, Ljósálfar were forward, but Aetril had never hidden her desire to bed Loki. He could have done it without political ramifications too, but Sigyn would have killed him. She had only forgiven him for Angrboda when he explained in humiliating detail what had really happened. Sigyn was the loyalist of wives, but she demanded the loyalty be matched by her husband. Something Loki was happy to do, but when an opportunity like Aetril was all but in his lap, well, it was quite a temptation. Mostly because he was sure he could talk Sigyn into being a part of it...

Loki shook himself before he wandered too far into that realm of dreams. Not the time.

Sif, meanwhile, looked rather scandalised.

“Well… the imagination can be a delightful place,” Loki replied before slipping out of her grip, “But I interrupted you two, my apologies.” He backed away and moved to the side, subtly rubbing at his neck. All he wanted to do was go to his bed. His bed. Where his wife was probably waiting, naked, for him. And he had not told her what he was.

Well… damn.

The Norns must hate him, Loki decided with a slightly hysterical inner giggle. They had to, because this was too much. A Jötun. A King. A Monster. A Coward. A Man. A Husband. A Liar. A Sorcerer. A Protector. How in the name of Yggdrasil was he supposed to be all of these things at once?

Loki forced himself to smile and kiss Aetril’s hand and assure her that when things were better and Odin was awake he would visit her in her realm. Aetril, now satisfied by his actions, took her leave, Loki almost dropped his guard before the Warriors Three and Sif, but caught himself in time. They had made their loyalties clear in their actions, if not their words. So he simply said,

“When my father awakens in a day, you may bring your request of Thor to him. I’m sure he will find such loyalty delightfully Aesir.”

He walked away, sensing their confusion as he went. The wolves left him to go to their own beds, but Loki paused long enough to express gratitude in a dominant manner to them for their support. He almost ran into his chambers, magically returning Gungnir to its place in the Vault. He shut his doors and flung his helmet off, hearing it clatter against the floor.

“That thing is heavier than ever.” he grumbled, eyes shut and leaning back against his door.

“Kingship is a heavy burden.”

Loki opened his eyes to see Sigyn sitting in the middle of his bed, naked and elegant and… sideways? Loki realised half a second later he had slid to the side with exhaustion. Sigyn leapt out of bed and caught him. “Loki!”

Loki groaned and between them they managed to sit on the floor, her arms tight around him. He shook his head in an attempt to clear it, but that just made it so much worse. Sigyn had a distinct look of panic in her eyes, even as she maintained hard-learned composure.

“All right Loki, tell me what you’re keeping from me, right now! You’re starting to scare me.”

Loki groaned again and gestured to the bed. Sigyn helped him rise and they stumbled to the bed. Loki collapsed on it with a grunt of relief and grabbed for Sigyn, holding onto her tight. She clasped his face in her hands and brushed her lips over his brow as if to check his temperature.

“Talk to me husband. Now.”

Loki swallowed and sighed, “I am tired. Tired of not being enough for this realm.”

He gave Sigyn a moment to speak, but she only frowned, so he continued. “But at least I finally know why I am not enough.”

He sat up and faced Sigyn, “Did you know that Laufey had a son? A runt. He abandoned it in a temple to die in the cold. And who should happen upon it but Odin All-Father, knee deep in Jötun blood from the war? And rather than just kill it and be done, he stole it and put it next to his first born son, and declared them brothers.”

Sigyn’s eyes widened, but rather than recoiling from him, she eyed him shrewdly.

“So… you’re a…”

“A Frost Giant,” Loki spat glaring down at his hands. “The very monster parents –my parents –warn children of at night. The monsters I told Jörmungandr about.”

Sigyn was still and silent for a moment, then she reached up and took hold of his hand. Loki flinched and tried to pull it away, not wanting her to touch him when he knew what was beneath the pale skin. Sigyn held firm and brought his hand up so she could press her lips to his pulse point. She held firm when he gasped quietly at the press of her seiðr, and held on even when the white skin dissolved around her lips to reveal the blue underneath. Loki finally dragged his hand free and snapped,

“What are you doing?”

“Testing the magic around the illusion.” Sigyn wiped at her lips with her thumb, “Hmm… chilly.”

Loki stared at her as his skin tingled with the returning illusion. “Why would you –what was that for?”

“Just… curiosity. I’ve never seen such a powerful illusion spell, if even the caster didn’t know it was there. Where did it come from?”

Loki nearly choked as he sputtered, “C-Curiosity? That’s it? I tell you my whole life is a lie, that you’ve been bedding a monster, and all you’re thinking is how the illusion spell works?”

Sigyn gave a little shrug, “It’s a very intricate spell. If you hadn’t told me it was there, I would never have noticed it.”

Loki stared at her. Half of him wanted to burst into giggles, and the less hysterical side of him wanted to demand that she admit he now disgusted her. But first, he closed his eyes,

“Could you put something on, you’re very distracting like that.”

“Hm? Oh!”

He opened his eyes as Sigyn pulled a robe on, then she sat next to him again, drawing one leg under her and pulling her hair free and over her shoulder. Loki decided that the robe really had not improved the situation.

“Now,” Sigyn took his hand again and held it. “When did you find out?”

“When we were on Jötunheim my skin changed colour when a Jötun grabbed me, Volstagg was burned by the frost, but I was unharmed. After that I went to the vault to touch the Casket… and Odin found me and told me what I am. Then he fell into Odinsleep.”

Sigyn nodded, brushing her thumb over the back of his hand. Loki dropped his eyes,

“My whole life has been a lie. He took me for a purpose, I am not his son, he never really loved me. That’s why he always favoured Thor. It was not because I use seiðr, or fought with daggers rather than swords, or played tricks and lied. It wasn’t even because of the shame I brought him for being unmanned by Angrboda. It was simply because of my blood. And I bet other members of the court know it too, and that’s why they have never trusted me,” he added as he realised that some of the council had fought with Odin in the war. They must know what he was. 

He pulled his hand free and inhaled deeply, getting off the bed and walking around the bedpost to face her with some distance between them. Inhaling deeply, he struggled to his voice steady as he looked at her, drinking her in.

“And it’s why we should part ways now.”

Sigyn’s face shuttered and became blank as she blinked at him. “What?”

Loki held the column in one tight hand, “I… Well, I will always love you Sigyn, of course, but I would not cause you more pain by dragging out the inevitable.”

“Inevitable? What are you talking about Loki?”

Loki’s stomach was beginning to ache as he faced her and said, “Our marriage… it, it cannot be. We were already chasing dreams before, now our marriage is impossible.”

Sigyn stared harder at him, and then she shook her head, her voice light as a feather, “No.”

“I’m sorry?” Loki watched as she leaned back calmly onto the bed.

“You should be, for even thinking something so stupid,” Sigyn told him. Loki stared at her, baffled, 

“I don’t understand, did you not hear me?”

“I heard you. But no, our marriage is not over.”

“But I am a Frost Giant!”

“And that means you were one yesterday. You were one the day we made our vows in New York. You were one the first time we made love. You were one the day you penned that letter to me when we were six because you wanted a friend to talk about seiðr with.”

“But I did not know then!” Loki snapped, the wood of his bed column creaking under the strain of his fingers. Sigyn rolled her eyes and climbed onto her hands and knees, crawling towards him, her voice growing harsher as she demanded,

“And what has changed about you since you found out? Are you suddenly baying for infant blood? Are you suddenly of a mind to rape me for the fun of it? To tear down Valaskialf Palace for the pleasure of it burning?”

Loki recoiled in disgust, “No!”

“So… I ask again, what has changed about you since you found out?”

“I… Nothing! Everything! I don’t know! But it has changed things.”

“You sound like a child.” Sigyn’s voice was fond as she sat back on her heels and reached up to touch his face, but Loki pulled away before she could.

“Is this a joke to you?”

“Of course not. I’m furious for you, because Odin had no right to keep it from you.”

“And you do not recoil at the idea of being touched by a Frost Giant? A monster?”

“Stop calling yourself that,” Sigyn ordered, slipping off the bed to follow him.

“Why not, it is the truth!”

“No more than the truth that Thor is a hero is really true. He’s an arrogant, reckless, vain fool who finally earned a punishment he deserved. If Thor had been a Frost Giant and attacked Asgard, he would be a terrible criminal. It is just fortunate for him that he is instead a Prince of Asgard.”

Loki frowned at her, “What?”

Sigyn’s hand snapped out and grabbed his jaw, pulling him to her, “You seem to be under some sort of impression that I care a whit about your blood heritage. I tell you now that nothing is further from the truth. Prince, Peasant, Aesir, Jötun, Mortal, Warrior, King, Thrall, Seiðrmaðr, Whore, I don’t care what you are, and I never will. All I care about that you be Loki. My Loki, with all the frustrations and wonders that brings with it. If I have to I will wed and bed you in the street before all of Asgard if that is what it would take.”

Loki gawped at her, his wit jumping ahead of him as he said, “Well, that would certainly stop any claims that I am argr.”

“Anyone who accuses you of such things does not know what a true man is,” Sigyn growled, pushing him backwards and into the wall. She crushed his mouth with hers and started pulling at his clothing, shredding it under the strength of her fingers. Loki gasped as her hands pressed against his bare chest and yelped when she bit his lip, drawing blood. Sigyn pulled away, and licked Loki’s blood from her lips.

“You taste the same,” she purred and Loki moaned, helpless and happy to be so under her hands. All he did was help her out of her robe and hold her up as she grabbed his shoulders and lifted herself. Loki buried his face in her neck and muffled his groans against her skin. “You feel the same inside me,” she panted, “You sound the same. Whatever your body, your mind is what I care for. And that is still strong, still insecure, still devilish and dangerous and playful and I will never give you up for anything.”

“Oh Norns…” Loki hissed, holding tight to her like she was the only thing in the Nine Realms that mattered.

“Do you understand Loki?” she demanded, biting at his ear.

“Yes! Yes! I understand, Sigyn. Sigyn, Sigyn.” Loki felt like he was coming apart, had been coming apart since that Jötun had grabbed his arm. Everything had gone wrong since he had let the Jötnar into the Vault. None of this was meant to happen. He whimpered pathetically, grabbing at her desperately.

“I’m here,” she promised, “I’m here and I’m always here. You cannot lose me.”

Loki squeezed her tight and twisted them around so she was crushed against the wall.

“Need you,” he growled, “Need you with me, more than any other.”

“You have me,” she panted, stroking his face. The words were like a balm as he kissed her, body shuddering as his mind shut down for a few blissful seconds. When he finally came back to himself, he found they were back on his bed, Sigyn pulling the covers over their bare skin. He reached out with clumsy hands and pulled her to him, kissing her neck as he wrapped his body around hers. Sigyn pressed close and tapped his nose,

“Now, no more nonsense about being a monster.”

“Will you do all that again if I do?” Loki asked with a faint grin.

“No. I’ll spank you. And if that doesn’t work, I’ll think of something unpleasant.”

Loki chuckled as they settled down in the bed and silence filled the air. Sigyn slipped away into sleep and Loki had to bite his lip to suppress a giggle as he realised that Sigyn had treated his revelation as nothing dramatic, but had still given him the drama he had needed to vent it all out. She knew him well.

Loki decided then and there that, whatever the consequences, he would tell Odin the truth when he awoke. Sigyn was his wife and Loki would have her made a Princess of Asgard officially. She deserved that at the very least. They could deal with Vanaheim’s outrage later. 


	4. Whom Should Man Trust?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki wonders who he can trust in the court of Valaskjálf, as Sif and the Warriors Three start to turn on him.

Sigyn woke him sometime late in the night, or early in the morning, just long enough to bid him goodbye.

“Where’re you going?” he mumbled, half asleep.

“Home. The sun is up and I have a whole day of duties to attend to. Svana Ein will be coming to wake me soon.” She kissed him gently before climbing out of bed.

“Stay,” Loki called, lifting his head. Sigyn looked at him with a smile,

“I cannot. I have rituals to adhere to, you know that. If I could I’d never go back.”

Loki groaned, “When you’re my wife, we’ll travel across Midgard as long as we want, and stay in bed all day.”

Sigyn chuckled, bent over him and kissed him a final time, “I’m already your wife, but I appreciate the sentiment.”

Before Loki could form a response, she walked through the mirror, leaving him alone in his bed. Loki sulked at the loss and flopped back on his bed, trying to go back to sleep and having no success at all. His bed felt cold now.

Still, he told himself to push away his misery, Odin would be awake soon and Loki could talk to him about how he had kept his heritage a secret and confront him about his preferential treatment of Thor –he had started to vent that long sitting frustration before Odin fell asleep, and Loki saw no reason why he could not pick it up where he left off.

After that Loki would tell him that he had married Sigyn decades ago, and had been sleeping with her for centuries. Then he would no doubt run for his life. Odin had made it clear for as long as Loki could remember that he intended for Thor and Sigyn to marry and unite the two realms. It was a traditional want for Asgard’s king, just like the kings of England had continuously claimed France was theirs for centuries. Loki could easily imagine the calculating look on Odin’s face when he had heard that the new king and queen of United Vanaheim had produced a daughter.

The trouble was Asgard had no rightful claim to the planet. In fact, if anything, since the Aesir and Asgard had come from Vanaheim, Vanaheim had a rightful claim to Asgard –distant though it now was. However, after the Aesir-Vanir War, during which King Buri had died and his son Bor took up Asgard’s throne, Vanaheim had been crushed by Asgard’s might, forced to become a protectorate realm to Asgard. Since then, it had been a long, tense relationship. Odin had given them a little more independence in his early reign to keep them from rebelling, but it had inadvertently lead to Vanaheim descending into civil war, with half the realm wishing for full independence and the other wanting full unity with Asgard.

Asgard had been embroiled in the war with Jötunheim, so it had not been able to give the unifiers aid to a swift victory, so the realm had nearly torn itself apart, until one day, after countless deaths, the two sides stopped fighting.

The details were annoyingly sketchy, and Sigyn hated talking about it, but in the end, a realm that had been made up of tribes and kingdoms united and placed the son of the unifiers’ most powerful leader and the daughter of the independents’ leader on a shared throne over all of Vanaheim. Odin, although victorious in Jötunheim, had not enough strength to interfere to Asgard’s benefit. Vanaheim became much more powerful under King Njordr and Queen Skadi, and it was clearly hoping to rival Asgard for power once the ultimate symbol of their unity, Sigyn herself, was on the throne.

It was easy to see why Odin wanted the match. Yet, for some reason he had not pushed Thor to propose to Sigyn formally for decades. Maybe he had been waiting for Thor to be king, but Loki couldn’t imagine why. Then again, he still had no idea why Odin had taken him, so who knew how many other plans Odin had that weren’t known. But it was very likely that Loki had ruined his plan for Sigyn by falling in love with her.   

Loki knew he was not going back to sleep. He sat up and glared at the doors across from him, fingers twitching. He hated being idle, alone with his own thoughts, because he never had good thoughts to think.

Why had his parents –Odin and Frigga –his parents never told him about what he really was?

Mother –Frigga –had said it was for Loki’s own good, Odin had wanted to protect him. From what? Knowing the truth so he could at least understand why he was different. If that was Odin’s logic, it had failed. Loki had always felt different, but had never understood why. He had felt like he was failing somehow, but now he knew it was just his very blood was different from everyone else. Surely if he had known that, he would have had some comfort.

But… would he have tried as hard as he had all his life to be accepted and learn as much as he had? Maybe not. Loki was a curious creature, he knew that, it was as ingrained as his seiðr, so he would probably have studied just as hard, learned just as much, but would he have worked as hard to prove himself an Aesir if he had known what he was?

It was impossible to know what Loki would have done had he always known. Maybe that was why Odin had never told him. He had been afraid of what Loki would become if he knew what he was. At least if he thought he was Aesir he would strive to be a good Aesir and measure up to Odin. That way his loyalties would be tied to Asgard and nowhere else.

Loki’s insides began to burn as he realised that all of it had been a way to keep Loki loyal and obedient. As if it would really take manipulating him to want to do Asgard proud.

Throwing himself out of the bed, Loki started to pace, hands flexing. A part of him wanted nothing more than to throw open the portals that Heimdall could not see and Kvasir could not find, let the Jötnar stream into Asgard and lay waste to it. Just to show Odin what happened when he tried to manipulate Loki. His seiðr crackled at his fingertips as he imagined the warriors of Asgard fleeing in terror or being crushed underfoot by the Jötnar. Then Loki could step in and use his seiðr and stop it all, show them all he was far above them in skill and power.

His pacing stuttered to a stop, and he looked at his mirror, surprised at himself. Had he not stated only yesterday that he had no interest in war? Shaking his head, Loki sat down on the end of the bed and held up his hands. With one he conjured up an image of Odin, tall, strong, mighty, which looked up at him with a single, sharp eye.  In the other he conjured up an image of Laufey. His skin crawled a little at the sight of him. So many nights of being told stories about how monstrous these creatures were, and he was one of them. Worse, he was the son of their leader, the one Odin had fought hardest against and defeated.

With a small amount of magic, the two figures turned towards each other and began to fight, sword and ice clashing. They stabbed and cut at each other, and Loki watched, entranced. He did not try to direct them as he might have done if he were planning a fight, rather he let them strike as they would.

He must have given them too much freedom because both got sharp knives against the other’s throat and began to speak.

 _“You took my son,”_ Laufey growled. Loki’s stomach twisted, but he let it keep going.

 _“Loki is my son,”_ Odin snarled, _“You gave him away.”_

_“He was stolen from me by you. I demand him back.”_

_“He is my son, I would give up the throne before I surrender him.”_

A lump came into Loki’s throat and he curled his fingers into fists, dissipating the two figures before bringing his fists to his eyes and rubbing at them like a boy. He knew Odin would never say anything of the kind, and Laufey had abandoned him to die, so the idea of either of them fighting like that over him was ridiculous, and it was childish for him to want it. But want it he did. He had always wanted some sort of sign that Odin still cared about him, beyond all things, but never received any indication, not in the past few centuries at least. Ever since Fenrir, Loki and Odin had never been able to look each other in the eye.

He sniffed hard and looked up at the window. It would be three hours at least before the sun rose over the horizon. But he knew he would not be able to sleep any more, and decided to get up. He washed and dressed slowly, preferring to do it himself, unlike Thor who had a servant boy, Vreistr, who laid out his clothes and helped him wash and dress. When he had been younger he had had a boy as well, but after his time with Angrboda, he refused to let anyone attend to him that intimately. Even when he had moved past it, he had demanded his privacy.

Looking around his bedchambers, he took in the shelves covered in trinkets, weapons and magical tools. Some were from Midgard, but no one but Sigyn and him would recognise that. Most people would imagine that Loki’s bedchamber was dark and gloomy, full of sinister and secretive things that he would toy with, some probably imagined him owning a cauldron that took up the full room. Ridiculous, his cauldron was only a small thing, kept in his apothecary cabinet, with all his herbs and magical ingredients in the antechamber.

Loki’s bedchamber was actually a very warm and brightly lit room, with light coloured walls and warm green and blue drapes and furniture, with a desk and two comfy armchairs at which he and Sigyn had studied magic and history together for hours. On one wall was a painting from Midgard’s sixteenth century, on another was a painting of Vanaheim’s capital, painted by Sigyn from her bedroom. His clothes tended to spend a lot of time on his floor before he put them away, and his books never stayed in the one place on their shelves.

His antechamber was larger, able to hold up to ten people comfortably, and it was there he kept his armour, his helm, his weapons, including his ceremonial sword Laevateinn that he had been given when he had reached his majority. That had been a day Odin had looked upon him with pride and love, but it had been over a thousand years since then, and much had happened to sour things between them. There was also a study across the corridor, where he kept his magical tools and ingredients, attended princely duties, and where he kept all his books.

Once dressed, Loki closed his eyes and focused on the air around him, gently pulling at the seiðr that brushed against his own energy, pulling it and wrapping it around himself like a cloak. The spell cast, Loki strolled down the corridor, past oblivious einherjar, heading for the Fire Room, the favourite space of Thor, the Warriors Three and Sif. He would bet his seiðr that the four were there, arguing.

Sure enough they were. Fandral was pacing frantically, and scolding Volstagg,

“Our dearest friend banished! Loki on the throne! Asgard on the brink of war! Yet you’ve managed to consume four wild boars, six pheasants, a side of beef and two caskets of ale! Shame on you! Don't you care?”

He knocked the plate of food from Volstagg’s hands and Volstagg leapt to his feet, looming over the smaller blond.

“Do not mistake my appetite for apathy!”

Loki snorted to himself as he watched from a corner. He took careful note of Fandral’s words. Thor, the dearest friend. Loki on the throne as if it was a disaster. Asgard on the brink of war. Well they certainly had to shoulder some of the blame, as much as Loki and Thor did. They had barely tried to talk him out of it and Loki knew Thor always listened to his friends over Loki. He clenched a fist and forced himself to be calm.

“Stop it, both of you! Stop!” Sif ordered, getting between them. The two men stepped apart and Sif dropped her arms. “Loki tried to manipulate us to his side yesterday and we nearly fell for it.”

“I still don’t think that is the case,” Fandral said, shaking his head, “I said it yesterday, Loki was always one for mischief, but the idea that he would commit treason by letting the Jötnar into the Vault is not a thing we should leap to without question.”

“Only Loki would have the power to do it without Heimdall seeing,” Sif insisted.

Fandral looked less sure, “Sif, my Lady, you have always disliked Loki. Ever since that incident with your hair-”

“You think me that vain?” demanded Sif.

Loki wanted to jump up and down shouting ‘Yes!’ like a child. But he stayed where he was and watched with some interest. So, there was division among the ‘super best friends’ as Sigyn called them with a snort. That could be very useful to him.

“I am simply saying you are always looking for the worst in Loki, and half the time I don’t see what you see. You see malic, I see a little mischief.”

“I would agree,” Volstagg said carefully, “Loki does have the capacity to do very terrible things, but he has saved our lives on more than one occasion, and he does love Thor, even if he is very jealous of him.”

“So jealous he got him banished!” Sif snapped, her ponytail swinging as she turned her head. Loki narrowed his eyes as he watched her walk around the room, “Hogun, you agree with me.”

Hogun chose his words carefully, as usual, “Laufey said there were traitors. But that does not mean it is Loki. But it does mean that the list is small, because few could do what was done.”

Loki had always been wary of Hogun, if for nothing else than the fact that he was much smarter than his limited word count would lead one to believe. Actually, for all Loki sneeringly called them fools in his mind, he knew none of them were stupid. They were smart enough to be suspicious of him, but it still stung because they did not trust him. He had tried to get them to trust him years ago, but it never really stuck, so he had given up for the most part. It was only Thor that had kept Loki around them in the end.

“So what do we do?” asked Fandral, looking from one to the other.

“We go get Thor,” said Sif at once. Loki narrowed his eyes at them, and shook his head. Thor was mortal now, even if they found him he could not return to Asgard, not without passing Odin’s test. The Bifrost would reject him, maybe even kill him. He would not let them harm him in their stupidity. Thor had to learn some humility, but he did not deserve to die.

“It’s treason,” said Fandral softly.

“Forget treason, it’s suicide,” snapped Volstagg.

“Thor would do the same for us,” Sif insisted.

Loki dearly want to reveal himself to them and ask Sif ‘Do what?’. Honestly what did they plan on doing? Thor could not come back, Odin’s geis upon Thor would not allow it. None of them could undo it, and he was pretty sure they would probably only impede Thor’s progress if they went to him. They just wanted Loki off the throne and in a day he would be and what then? They would have betrayed him, committed treason and he would be… hurt? Vindicated? Alone? No, not alone. He had Sigyn. All he needed was Sigyn and he could handle the rest of the world.

Irritated, Loki stormed out before he could lose his temper. He strode down the corridor in search of Kvasir. He needed someone on his side that could be openly present, and not just visit him secretly. Not that he trusted Kvasir much more than anyone else in Asgard, but he still wanted to see what his old tutor had to say.

Loki stopped mid-step and frowned as a thought occurred to him.

Who knew he was a Frost Giant? There was no way that Odin and Frigga could have kept it a complete secret. Did Kvasir know? Did Tyr –he probably did, considering he had never liked Loki since he was a child. Loki turned and strode back the way he had come, turning right and making his way to Odin’s chambers, removing his invisibility spell as he went, to the alarm of the einherjar. He threw open the doors and slammed them shut behind him, earning a jump of surprise from his mother, and then a reproachful look.

“Loki-”

“Out!” Loki snapped at the guards, who all jumped then obeyed, going outside to wait. Loki cast a silencing spell on the door and then turned to his moth –Frigga –mother –Frigga – _damnit!_

“Who else knows about me?” he asked, pacing around the side of the bed, putting Odin between them.

“Loki…” she sighed, “I already told you-”

“I heard you say it doesn’t matter, but it does to me. Now answer my question.” Loki’s hand trembled slightly as he jabbed a finger at her. He had never spoken like this to his mother, but she had been just as much a part of the lie as Odin and Loki would have his answers. “Who knows what I am? If I am to deal with the court, I would know who looks at me and feels their skin crawl in disgust.”

“No one is disgusted by you-”

“You are avoiding the question.”

Frigga drew herself up, looking like the regal queen she was, but Loki refused to be cowed. She set her hands in her lap and sighed,

“Kvasir, we asked him to watch over you to see if any of your Jötun heritage expressed itself. Tyr, he was there when your father found you.”

“I bet he told him to leave me to die.”

“No!” Frigga got to her feet, “Tyr would never say anything of the sort. You were an infant, an innocent.”

“And now? Now that I have been raised and ingratiated into the wondrous culture of the Aesir? He just… dislikes me?”

“Loki it’s not that simple. You’ve always butted heads with Tyr-”

“Who else knows? I want their names!” Loki demanded,

“Loki, I know you are upset, but I am still your mother and I am still the Queen of Asgard, so watch your tone.”

“How can I watch my tone if I cannot see it?” Loki asked without thinking, scowling at his own childishness. But Frigga’s body relaxed a little as if hearing him snap like a little boy made her feel better.

“Tyr, Kvasir, Eir and Heimdall are the only ones who know besides your father and I.”

“Of course Heimdall knows.”

“Loki, you are acting as if they hate you-”

“They do!”

“But not for your race. It may have made them wary at first, but any hostility they feel for you now, and I assure you it is not as much as you make out, is all to do with your perchance for mischief and nothing to do with what you are.”

Loki shook his head, “No. You are wrong. Tyr hated me from the time I was a child, from the moment I showed a skill for seiðr. If it is not because I am Jötun, people dislike me for my magic, they call me an ergi, there are so many reasons they hate me… but in the end it will always come down to a simple thing.” He looked down at Odin, sleeping and oblivious, and clenched his fists together, “Because I am not Thor.”

Frigga started to walk around the bed to him, but Loki dodged her and went for the door.

“Loki!”

Loki strode out of the room, not heeding Frigga’s call. He clenched and unclenched his fists as he walked blindly, letting his feet take him away from both of them. How dare she claim it did not matter, it absolutely mattered –if for no other reason, his children were not half-Aesir as he had thought. What if one of them had been ill in the brief time Loki had gotten to father them, being half frost giant and half-storm giant might have made all the difference. No, he could not think of three children right, it would push him over the edge, but if it turned out that Loki had lost children not because of fate, or their own hatred of him, but because they were part frost giant, Loki would tear Odin limb from limb, and wouldn’t even have the heart to regret it.

Loki was so lost in his own thoughts he almost walked straight into Volstagg, Sif, Fandral and Hogun. They came to a startled halt right in front of him. They all looked alarmed, eyes wide in surprise. Loki lifted his chin and regarded them with cold eyes.

“Loki! I mean, your majesty!” Fandral yelped, quickly bowing to him. Loki turned his gaze over the other three who bowed as well and then to Fandral.

“How’s your shoulder?”

“Erm, it is well majesty. Thank you.”

“Good to hear it.” Loki stepped forward and they parted to let him through, “I must go and attend to the matters of the kingdom, until my father wakes up later today.”

“So he will awaken?” Sif asked sharply.

Loki paused mid-step and twisted slightly to look at her. “Why would he not?”

Sif gave a faux-casual shrug, “You said your mother feared for his health.”

“I did. And she does, but I am certain he will awaken. This Odinsleep has caught us unaware, but that does not mean it will last longer than any other.” Loki completed his turn and strode up to her, until he was nose to nose with Sif, “I find your tone rather accusatory, Lady Sif. Are you implying something about my father’s sleep?”

Sif’s nostrils flared and her eyes flashed. “… no.”

“Then is there some other crime you would accuse me of? Because if there is, I would love to know it, so that I may defend myself.”

Loki was fixed upon Sif, but he could feel the Warriors Three stiffen behind her. Sif swallowed and her eyes were flashing black with rage.

“No, my king,” she hissed, “I would not accuse you of anything.”

Loki’s smiled again, razor edges in his grin. “Good. I would not have you, my closest friends, distrusting me when things are already on the precipice. Asgard always looks to its heroes to be the guiding light, and with Thor gone, that light falls to you four.”

“It… does?” Volstagg looked worried. Loki stepped back from Sif and nodded to him,

“Absolutely. You were only second to Thor in the heart of Asgard. Children are told of your deeds as their bedtime stories. Did you not know how popular the tales of Prince Thor, Lady Sif and the Warriors Three are?”

“We… um… we had an idea.”

Volstagg rather looked like he wanted to add something, maybe even be sweet enough to add that Loki was a part of those tales, but he did not. Either because it was not true, or he did not know how Loki would take such kindness, it was hard to tell.

“Good,” Loki backed up, smirking as he spread his arms, “Now if you’ll excuse me, politics awaits!”

He turned away from them and moved with a sure foot. He knew he had just left them confused and uncomfortable, but it would buy him some time before they made a move. He was not wrong when he said they were important, but he did not need traitors in his midst. He would have to think.


	5. The Advice of A King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki's first day as king.

Kvasir was in the library, pouring over books. It was his natural state. Loki approached him with silent steps, feeling the faint warmth of amusement and comfort at the sight. 

“What are you researching?” he asked quietly, as he had thousands of times over the years since he was a child. It was the first time Kvasir nearly leapt out of his seat in fright though. Kvasir whirled around hand against his chest, eyes wide like he had seen a ghost, or a monster, instead of just Loki. 

“Lo- your majesty!” he mumbled. Loki leaned against a bookshelf and smiled slightly.

“You don’t need to address me like that here Kvasir. Call me Loki, as you always have. Believe me, I could use the familiarity.”

Kvasir nodded, looking slightly surprised. “Of course… Loki.”

Loki paced forward and sat next to Kvasir, leaning back into the chair.

“How is Sverrir? I never see him in the Palace anymore.”

“My son is enjoying being a father. Áki is finally old enough to leave his mother’s side and start learning from his father, so Sverrir has been teaching how to fish these last few days.”

“Áki is five now, isn’t he?”

Kvasir smiled, “Yes, well remembered. Rind, his daughter is ten. You forget how quick they grow at the start of their lives.”

Loki nodded, feeling a twinge of jealousy. Jörmungandr had been five when Loki had lost him. Loki had never been able to teach him about anything that could not be experienced inside Angrboda’s house.

“Sverrir asked after you yesterday, he hopes you are well given the situation.”

Loki smiled, he had always gotten along with Sverrir as both boys and as men, thanks to a shared love of mischief.

“Tell him thank you. I’d like to see him when this Odinsleep is over, to catch up. Now, what are you researching at this hour?”

“I am doing as you asked of me, I have been searching for portals between worlds.”

“Any success?”

“Some… I have been scrying for them.”

The one in the Weapons Vault would not be among them. Loki had sealed it before approaching Thor in the feasting hall, just in case any other Jötun got the bright idea to sneak in.

“I have found three. But none of them are within the palace boundaries and certainly not in the Vault.”

Loki looked over his shoulder at the map on the table. He reached out and touched one that was the furthest from the palace. “I know of this one, it goes to Alfheim.”

Kvasir gave him a wry look, “Visiting Queen Aetril?”

Loki rolled his eyes, “She very much wishes.”

“I’m sure she does, but what about you?”

“Huh?”

Kvasir shrugged, eyes twinkling wryly, “You did offer to attend to her yourself.”

“Because she’s a valuable ally, and the fact that I get along with her was a mere benefit. In any case that portal is decayed and unusable. What other methods will you try to seek out the portals and cracks?”

“I am researching the best methods now. Unless you have some suggestions?”

“Try feeling for them in the fabric of the universe, that should do it,” said Loki easily. Kvasir snorted,

“Oh yes Loki, very easy work that is.”

Loki blinked and then realised he was being serious. “Well, it is worth a try, you are no small seiðrmaðr Kvasir.”

“I taught you everything you know, did I not?”

Loki gave a smile and touched his shoulder, noticing how Kvasir tensed up under his touch. He narrowed his eyes in suspicion. Kvasir did not seem aware of his action. So was it a subconscious action that Kvasir had developed over centuries of being next to a Frost Giant? Loki had originally planned on discussing Kvasir’s loyalties, about the fact that he knew what Loki was, but he found he had lost his nerve now. He did not want to know, he did not want to know any of this.

“Keep at the work, I am sure Odin will be pleased by it when he wakes later. In the meantime, I believe have to go and attend to the petitioners for the day.”

“Yes, your majesty.”

Loki walked away, feeling a weight in his stomach that made him feel sluggish and ill. If Kvasir did not trust him, he had no allies on the council, and if Odin slept on –no he wouldn’t. Odin was the All-Father, strongest ruler and man in the Nine Realms. He would awaken. Loki paused mid-step as he felt a faint, distinct magical tug and reached out to pluck a bit of paper from the magical subspace. He unfolded it and read the message.

_‘Once Odin awakes, let’s go to Midgard for another holiday. We can go back to New York.’_

He grinned and walked back to his chambers to write a message back to Sigyn.

_‘Yes, sounds good. Maybe to Japan too, I’d love to unwrap you from a kimono.’_

He twitched his fingers, sending the parchment into subspace, compressing it into energy until it reached Sigyn, who would pull it out of subspace and reassert it to paper and ink. They sent messages almost every day like this, and no one around Loki had ever noticed, which was both satisfying and frustrating. He dressed properly and donned his helmet, summoned Gungnir to his hand and went to the throne room, pausing at the animal chambers to collect Geri and Freki. As the wolves came to his side, he looked at the ravens,

“Black Roamers, I ask you to go to Jötunheim and see what things are like there. I wish to know of the full extent of the damage Thor did to them.”

Loki still had no idea how he wanted to handle Jötunheim in the long run –Odin was waking up today, what was he talking about? –but he needed to know.

The ravens bowed and leapt into the air, vanishing through a window. Geri and Freki followed him to the throne room, where most of the court was gathered, lesser nobles as well as the lendmenn. They obviously had come to see if the rumours were true. Loki squeezed the staff in his hand and strode forward, the wolves on either side of him. He glanced to the left to see the Warriors Three and Sif standing near the steps of the dais. He gave them a scrutinising look and was gratified that Fandral and Volstagg shifted where they stood, clearly unhappy. Sif and Hogun were impassive.

Loki ascended the stairs and turned to face the hall full of people. It was unnerving to have so many looking directly at him. Usually people’s eyes were on Thor and Odin. Unbidden, Sigyn’s voice filtered through his mind,

_“I tend to image they’ve all sprouted kitten ears, it makes them seem so much less intimidating.”_

Loki looked around at all the nobles and warriors before him and felt his lips trying to pull into a grin at the image. He was fairly sure he managed to keep it repressed as he said,

“I will hear any petitions that have been brought before the court today.” and banged Gungnir on the ground. He really liked doing that. He sat in the throne and had a sudden, horrifying thought.

What if no one came to him? If they wanted to wait for Odin, and he was forced to sit there, like a fool? He felt some of the colour leave his cheeks, but then a man came forward. He was dressed in simple, clean clothing, clearing having no real wealth, but had a dignity about him that told Loki a lot.

“Your majesty, I am Adavaldr, I am chieftain of a small village in the Mountains of Asgard and-”

“Which village?” Loki asked without thinking, his curiosity surging up.

“I’m sorry?” Adavaldr blinked at him.

“What is the name of the village?”

“O- Ollerklif, my king.”

“Ah, of course, located by the twin peaks of Thialfi and Röskva. Where the descendants of Riki Róarson set up their wood works.”

“I –yes your majesty.” Adavaldr looked astonished that Loki knew of the place, which confused Loki, surely Odin knew all the places under his rule?

“Continue,” Loki beckoned, interested. It was a long journey to come to Idavoll for Adavaldr, so it had to be very important.

“Well, my king, we have always depended on a particular river to supply us with water.”

Loki nodded, he knew the river he was talking about.

“But in the past month, it has stopped flowing.”

Loki frowned, “I have heard nothing of a drought in the area.”

“It is not the case. We searched to see if an avalanche blocked the flow, that has happened before, but there was nothing. We had our best men travel all the way to the source of the river… and they found no water at all. Our situation is growing desperate, and we already sent a letter to you, asking for help.”

Loki’s frown went from puzzled to annoyed and he looked at the Lendmenn at his right.

“Well? Is this true?”

“Possibly, but we receive so many letters, we may not have seen it yet.” said Forseti quickly. Loki sighed in annoyance, then said,

“Adavaldr, did you write the first letter?”

“Yes, my king.”

“And do you have a document with your writing upon it with you?”

“Uh yes.” Adavaldr held up a scroll and Forseti moved to take it, but Loki simply twitched his fingers in exasperation and the scroll disappeared from Adavaldr’s hand, and into Loki’s. Loki unfurled it and brushed his thumb over the writing, casting a spell which called the original letter out and into his hand. As he examined both documents he ignored the tense silence growing in the room. It was a few summoning spells, for goodness sake, he had not turned anyone’s drink into snakes… yet. There was no reason to get so uncomfortable.

“This letter was sent three weeks ago. Why did it not get seen before?” Loki asked Forseti who shifted where he stood.

“It… sometimes letters get muddled my king.”

“Hmm… if that is the case I guess someone should go through every letter and unmuddle them all. Lendr maðr Forseti, since you were aware of the problem, you seem the best choice to correct it.”

Forseti boggled at him, “I…?”

Loki looked at him with a bland expression, raising his eyebrows in question. Forseti swallowed his protests and nodded with gritted teeth.

“Yes… your majesty.”

Loki was going to pay for the rest of his life for today. And he had barely begun.

“Well, the matter is before me now. According to this more recent document you searched the whole area for signs of drop holes and found none… the mountains in that area are mostly basalt, they are not porous, so it’s unlikely anyway. Hmmm… Did anything unusual happen before the river ran dry? Strange weather, odd visitors, that sort of thing?”

“No… I do not believe so. We have a steady stream of visitors, but none of them come to my mind as being odd.”

Something in his voice made Loki look up. “None at all you say?”

“None my king.” Adavaldr gave a twitch and Loki narrowed his eyes.

“Would your fellow villagers say the same?”

“I… don’t know your meaning.”

“Would the others in your village say that there had been no strange visitors as well?”

“I…”

“Because you see, from the information I have before me, I have a conclusion but unless you are honest with me I cannot confirm it. So… if you wish for my help, you must help me.”

“There… there may have been a woman one day but I…”

“About this tall?” Loki held his hand almost to his own height, “Hair down to her feet, which would have been bare? Strange garments that seemed to ripple like the surface of the water after dropping a stone? Didn’t say much?”

Adavaldr was gaping at him, “I… how did you-”

Loki rolled up both scrolls of paper as he said, “Yes, you’ve upset your nymph.”

“My… nymph?”

“The water nymph that was the source of your river. She came down in her cycle of heat, whoever… assisted her was probably rude to her and she’s gone off in a huff about it. You’ll need to coax her back if you want that river to flow again.”

Adavaldr flushed, “I have never heard of a nymph in Asgard, let alone in my home.”

“Ah, they are everywhere… they’re just shyer than Vanaheim’s nymphs.” Loki chuckled at the memories of his own dealings with nymphs. “She’s probably been there for millennia, but when they enter into heat they will seek a partner anywhere, and your village was the nearest with males for her to mate with.”

“And… and how do we get the river back if that is the case?”

Loki hummed to himself, “I shall write out the instructions for you and you can take them with you tomorrow, I shall write them tonight.”

“Oh… th-thank you my king.”

“Of course.” Loki dismissed him with a wave of his hand, holding out the scrolls to Delling, who took them, looking sour. “Any more?”

After this, more people stepped forward, willing to give Loki a chance, which he was annoyingly touched by. He settled three land disputes, promised to help the coastal villages determine what was wrong with their fish population, and many, many legal arguments between people of noble and poor origin.

He was lucky, everyone he dealt with was from somewhere he had either been to, or read about, so he did not need to query about the basic details for any region. A couple of times the Lendmenn moved to give him information, but he already knew it. It was hours before he was done, and was able to stand up from the throne. His whole body was thrumming with nervous energy and he wanted to get out of this hall before he lost his patience. Geri gave him a look that told him the wolf could sense his agitation and did not approve. Loki, pettily, reached out and rested his hand on the back of the wolf’s neck, reminding him who was alpha here.

“That was the last one my king,” said Hoder, sightless eyes turned to him.

“Thank you Hoder. Was there anything else?” Loki asked, silently yelling ‘ _No! No more!_ ’ in his head.

“No, majesty, that is it for the moment, it is time for lunch.”

“Excellent!” Loki got to his feet and went down the stairs, “I will go and see if my father has awoken yet. If he has, I will dine with him.”

“Of course majesty.”

The wolves went with Loki to Odin’s chambers and he was slightly worried to see that he had not so much as stirred. Geri and Freki whined as they sniffed at Odin’s bed and their tails fell.

“Nothing?” he asked. Frigga shook her head. “He usually wakes after twenty four hours at the most.”

“Which it has not been yet,” Frigga said gently. She seemed to have forgotten, or more likely forgiven, his earlier temper. “And, as I said Loki, this time it is different.”

Loki shook his head, “He’ll wake up soon, he has to.”

Odin could not just lie there while Loki needed answers.

“Loki…”

“He’ll wake soon,” Loki said sternly and walked out, refusing to heed his mother’s call to come back. He went to the dining hall and was about to take his usual place, when he remembered he had to sit at Odin’s chair. This seemed far more personal and uncomfortable than the throne. No one sat near him but he was so hungry that he barely noticed. Most days he could match Volstagg for the amount he ate because his seiðr used up so much energy. Today he probably out ate him, as well as giving Geri and Freki equal portions from his plate, like Odin did. He smiled fondly when Freki licked away the gravy from his fingers, but as Freki licked the tips of his fingers with the edge of his tongue, the feeling brought up the memory of a tiny little tongue lapping at his thumb in hunger, and the sensation of a small body resting in his hand, helpless and needy. Loki pulled his hand away and closed his eyes for a moment before finishing his wine and getting to his feet. The wolves followed, Freki sniffing at his hand and Loki could tell he was inquiring what he had done wrong.

“Worry not, alpha is weary, that is all.”

It was a lie, but the wolves accepted it and went with him as he made his way to the training arena. He needed to get rid of this pent up energy and magic would not do it today. Besides, Gungnir was a weapon as much as a tool, and Loki wanted to wield it like one. Odin would wake tonight, and it would probably be the only time Loki would get to try this.

The training arena was deserted, because the einherjar were eating together. The wolves lay down at the edge of the circle and watched as Loki tested the weight of Gungnir a bit first, swinging it with one hand before taking it in two and seeing how well he could whirl it around. Loki would never been as strong as Thor, but he was quick. He had always been quick, and had eventually learned to harness that. At first it had been encouraged by Tyr, but when Loki started preferring throwing daggers and illusions, Tyr had gotten frustrated, barking about honour and glory until Loki was set for a tantrum. He had poured his frustrations out in letters to Sigyn, until she had told him to practise with everything, learn every method, and use that to help him win.

Loki would have been very annoyed at her calming counsel, if she had not sent him just as many letters complaining about other things, from her separated parents trying to tug her between them, to the duties of being Vanaheim’s only heir. They bemoaned life and celebrated it together and it kept them bound tight to one another.

“My king?”

Loki did not pause in his actions, allowing the weight of the staff to whirl him around before stopping to face Fandral.

“Fandral the Dashing,” he greeted, a smirk settling on his face as he regarded him. “Have you come to train, alone?” He made a show of searching for the others. Fandral looked behind him with some discomfort and then stepped forward.

“I… I wish to speak with you.”

Loki huffed, “If this is about Thor again, I already told you-”

“Not exactly,” Fandral dithered, and then stepped forward again. “My… Loki?”

Loki tilted his head in surprise at the tone, but since he offered no opposition, Fandral continued, hand held out in supplication,

“We are friends, are we not?”

Loki stared at him, realising he wanted an honest answer. Loki spun Gungnir on the spot in his grip as he considered the question and how to answer it.

“I suppose we are. But don’t think it would gain you a higher status. Your ego would explode if anymore were added to it,” he said finally, deciding there was no point in being friendly, Fandral already doubted him. He would distrust a friendly Loki even more.

Fandral frowned, “You suppose? After all our shared victories? All the times we have… you have saved my life, and I yours, and yet you do not call me a friend?”

“You are Thor’s friend first.” Loki said.

“Only in time, not in heart.”

“Sentiment Fandral? Save it for your women.” Loki snapped.

“You think I lie?”

“I think you are oblivious, which is so much worse.” Loki hefted Gungnir up and swung it, his actions keeping Fandral from getting too close.

“Oblivious to what?”

“To much.”

“Speak plainly for once Loki, I pray you.”

Loki slammed Gungnir into the ground in frustration and turned to face him, “You’re really asking me now? Why? Why wait until this moment to ask me? Do you hope to get me to prove I am not made for the throne so Odin will bring Thor home sooner? Or is it just that now that Thor is gone, you’re seeing things his golden glow eclipsed all the time?”

Something shifted in Fandral’s eyes and Loki cursed, realising that Fandral was seeing proof that Loki’s jealousy of Thor controlled his actions. He stepped forward,

“What do you want Fandral?”

“I… I came to say I thought you made a very good king today,” Fandral said lamely. “You handled everything so… easily. How do you know so much about this land? I thought the lendmenn were going to explode from irritation because you did not need them.”

“I need no one,” Loki said without thinking, “And I know about this land because I have travelled it.” A bit of a lie, but not too much. Loki had travelled far and wide, but he had learned the excruciating details of the land from maps while with Angrboda, just to get away from her.

“When did you have time to do that?”

“You lot go smashing trolls, I go exploring.”

“My memory insists you’ve been with us on every trip.”

“In recent times, but when we were younger? I was not.”

“Oh… I thought-”

“See, oblivious.” Loki shook his head and decided he had trained enough. He called the wolves to his side and started walking away.

“Loki, wait!”

Loki groaned and turned to look at him. Fandral swallowed and then bowed to him.

“For what it is worth… I apologise for any offense I gave you.”

Loki really wanted to go to the nearest wall and bang his head against it. This was just unfair. He looked away and shifted his grip on the staff.

“I… appreciate your intentions. But, for me, an apology can only mean something if you know what it is you are apologising for. I believe I learned that when I was four. Apologising for any general offense… leads one to conclude you care not to think of what you may or may not have done. And if you do not care for that, what worth is there in the apology?”

Fandral looked astonished, blinking at him. Loki gave him a helpless smirk and walked away. The day was only half over, and he just wanted to go to bed. 


	6. A Careless Confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki pays Odin and visit and his silver tongue loses the run of itself.

Not wanting to remain in the palace, where everyone watched him with curiosity and uncertainty, Loki took Sleipnir to the Bifrost Observatory. His son galloped with an extra spring in his step, always happy when his parent took him out. Loki loved riding him, it was like he was flying without having to transform into a bird. It also more than halved the time it took to get to Heimdall’s post. The guardian was waiting for him, sword in hand. His stance had always made Loki imagine there really was a stick up his backside.

“Heimdall.” Loki greeted, dismounting from Sleipnir and walking to stand at his son’s head, petting it in approval.

“My king.” Heimdall’s voice gave a tiny flicker of emotion. He was in a rage. Loki wondered just what the cause was. Doubtless it was directed at him, but the specific source was harder to determine.

“I trust you know that I have ordered the Bifrost shut for the moment?”

“I do.”

“I wanted to know if that left anyone stranded. I gave the order before I realised there might be ambassadors and merchants who had left Asgard and were now stuck without explanation.”

“There are many Aesir on Alfheim and Vanaheim but none that seek to return at the moment. Messages have been sent to them, informing them of the situation.”

“Well and good. I don’t plan on the Bifrost staying shut for long, father may rescind the order when he awakens, but it seemed a sensible precaution, did it not?”

“Indeed my king.”

Oh yes, Heimdall hated this. That seemed to be the general consensus. Sleipnir butted at Loki’s shoulder with his head and Loki reached up to pet his soft muzzle absentmindedly as he asked, 

“And what of Jötunheim, I sent the ravens, but what can your eyes perceive?”

“Laufey is gathering his men. But he does not appear to be rushing. His sons are travelling to gather more.”

“Laufey has sons?” Loki’s voice was sharper than he intended.

“Two, Helblindi is the elder and Byleist is the younger.”

So, Loki had brothers. He wondered if they were younger or older.

“They were born after the war, to Laufey and Farbauti,” said Heimdall as if in afterthought. Loki did not buy it. Heimdall either knew or guessed that he knew what he was. Well that made things interesting. Loki wondered if he ought to confront the dark-skinned Vanir about his feelings, since Heimdall knew what he was he wanted to have it out with someone other than his mother. As much as Loki avoided direct confrontation, sometimes a good fight was cleansing to the mind. 

“Laufey’s queen?”

“Yes.”

So, his mother no doubt. Excellent. He now had two people to hate for abandoning him.

“Keep watch over them, inform me of any activity that concerns you.”

“Your brother is concerning me now.”

Loki stiffened, “Is something wrong with Thor?”

Heimdall’s face seemed to relax slightly, as if he had been looking to see what Loki would do.

“He is attempting to reach Mjölnir… he is battling many Midgardians that stand between them.”

“Has he passed Odin’s test?”

“… I do not believe so.”

Loki sighed and passed his hand over his hair, asking himself, “What did father say when he cast that spell?”

Heimdall looked at him as he began to pace, trying to remember the words. Sleipnir tried to follow him, but Loki put a hand out to halt him.

“Whosoever… whosoever holds this hammer… shall possess the power of Thor… there was a bit in the middle.” Loki closed his eyes and recreated the scene in his mind. When he still could not remember the words, he pushed the moment out and made it appear before himself and Heimdall. To his credit all Heimdall did was blink hard. Loki ignored himself at the edge, watching Thor be banished and focused instead on Odin, who was whispering at the hammer. He moved to stand in front of Odin’s image, listening carefully.

“Whosoever holds this hammer, if he be worthy, shall possess the power of Thor!”

Loki reflexively ducked when Odin threw the hammer, even though it would have passed through him. Even in his own illusions, he was still nervous of his father’s might. It was a good thing Heimdall was one of few words, otherwise he would never live that down.

“If he be worthy? What does that mean?” Loki asked as he made the illusion disappear.

“Your father wishes Thor to prove his worth.”

“Yes Heimdall, I did get that, thank you,” Loki snapped, walking back to Sleipnir and resting his hands on the long face. “If he be worthy… if he be worthy… what makes someone worthy to Odin? Thor only acted as he always does and yet that was not acceptable this time. Up until now he has always been the worthy one.”

Heimdall shifted behind him, but Loki was engrossed in his thoughts.

“Worthy… worthy… what does he mean?”

“You do not know?” Heimdall asked, sounding surprised.

“Not really…” Loki looked at him with one raised eyebrow, “At least… I do not know in Thor’s case.”

Heimdall did not reply, only regarded Loki with a strange gleam in his eye. Then he turned his gaze away and said,

“Your brother is weeping.”

“What’s happened?” Loki wished he was seated on the throne so he could see what was happening. All he could do was walk to Heimdall’s side and stare at his face as if he could see inside the Guardian’s mind.

“I believe he expected Mjölnir to fall into his hand, but he can no more lift it than a mortal man –and I have seen many try.”

Loki looked from Heimdall’s face to the portal of the Bifrost, seeing nothing but stars. It was easy to imagine the rejection had devastated Thor, maybe even scared him, but Loki could not imagine Thor being afraid, it was an emotion the blonde oaf just did not feel. He sighed heavily,

“Thor probably thought he could get home easily, all he needed was his hammer. How could anyone deny the mighty Thor what is so clearly his own? He probably did not realise how angry father was. What I have seen of him, he has just been acting as if this was all just another adventure he will get to tell tales about in Gladsheim when he got back.”

“It would seem so.” Heimdall said quietly. “He is being placed under arrest by the men who were studying Mjölnir.”

“Have they harmed him?”

“Not yet.”

Loki swallowed down his instinct to go down and save Thor as he was used to doing, “Tell me if they look to harming him and I will set him free. But if they are merely holding him… that is acceptable for the moment. I would imagine by their reckoning, his attack was unprovoked.”

Heimdall nodded, “They do not appear intent on harm.”

“Good. Then I have just one more query.”

“Yes?”

“What were you thinking letting us go to Jötunheim?”

Heimdall turned to him, “I was simply obeying the request of my princes.”

Loki ground his teeth together, “You knew Odin would be furious, we were breaking the law. You knew I was trying to stall, if you had played along Thor would be home and we would not be threatened by war with Jötunheim!”

Heimdall was silent for a moment, then said,

“My duty is to stand guard on the Bifrost, not attempt to parent princes who have long been men. It was not my place to stop you like errant children.”

“No, but if the Jötnar invade and people die, you will share in the responsibility. If we as men are responsible for our actions, so too are you responsible for yours,” said Loki viciously.

“So be it,” said Heimdall impassively.

Loki snorted, “Your loyalty is now under question Heimdall, I’d be careful of what you do.”

He stepped down from the centre of the Observatory. Sleipnir reached out and tugged at Loki’s shirt with his teeth.

“Ugh, no Sleipnir, we do not bite clothing,” Loki told him. Sleipnir stamped one of his eight feet and gave him an imploring look. “You want to race, is it?” Loki asked with a grin. Sleipnir tossed his head in excitement. “I’m sorry, but that’s not very kingly my son. Maybe when Odin awakes, hm? We’ll go out to the mountains and race until we can move no more.”

Sleipnir looked very put out but did not argue with him. Loki smiled at his son with open affection, scratching at the black forehead which got him a loud noise of pleasure from Sleipnir. “Come on, we’ll ride back now. Thor is safe enough, we can do no more for him.”

Loki climbed up onto Sleipnir’s back and nudged him into a gallop. Sleipnir made the most of the trip, leaping at intervals, forcing Loki to cling on without warning. By the time they got to the stables, Sleipnir was very giddy and pranced all the way into his stall. The grooms moved to take over from Loki, but Loki waved them off.

“I can handle him.”

The grooms gave him a funny look and walked away. Loki rolled his eyes. No one in Asgard really understood Loki’s attachment to the horse. They thought it very strange that he called him son, and unfortunately the story about him becoming a mare and giving birth to Sleipnir got around before he could explain his meaning. Damn Thor.

The true story was much more mundane. Loki had been out for a walk many centuries ago, his intent simply being to swallow his fear and prove to his parents that he had learned how to protect himself, when he had seen a magnificent stallion striding through the woods. Loki had followed him, studying him carefully. He could already shape shift into a horse –and yes, he had tried life as a mare for a day but had been able to flee the amorous stallion that came upon him, thank you very much. But what Loki had wanted to try next was creating new life. To do so with seiðr, you had to study the creature carefully. So he had followed the stallion for weeks, until he knew every part of it perfectly. Then he had set about trying to make a horse from magic. He had been relatively successful, Sleipnir’s eight legs were less of a complete error and more of a result of Loki’s over reaching. He had wanted to make the fastest horse in the Nine Realms, but the only way to grant that speed at the time had resulted in the horse having eight legs. Sleipnir had been a foal when Loki made him, and Loki had made him with his seiðr which was as much a part of him as his blood. He called him son because he felt no less love for this creature than he did for his other children –and he had not wanted his other children, as much as he loved them. Sleipnir he had made by choice.

Really though, if Sleipnir was his by blood, he would be a prince of Asgard and Loki certainly would not have given him to Odin to ride about. Sleipnir was a magnificent, beautiful, proud horse but he was still just a horse. Loki was proud of him, proud of his own seiðr and proud at how well Sleipnir had proven himself. Everyone admired him, and Loki took great pleasure in this, spending lots of time with the horse. His parents had not said anything to dissuade him, understanding that Loki needed some outlet for his paternal inclinations now that they had been awakened and absolutely denied.

Once he had unsaddled Sleipnir and fed him one of Idunn’s apples, Loki went back into the palace, heading for Odin’s bedchamber again. Surely by now…

No, Odin still slept.

“Thor is well,” Loki told his mother, “A bit confused, and a bit bruised, but he is well.”

Frigga smiled, “Thank goodness. I’m glad.” She looked at Odin with worry. “Loki… have you informed the council of our fears for your father?”

“Not yet –it would really sound like I was usurping the throne then. No, it is better if you tell them. I will watch him while you talk to the council. I would like a moment alone with him anyway.”

“I…”

“Please mother, let me be with him a moment.” Loki did not plead, but he put his greatest sincerity behind the words. Frigga swallowed, she had never left Odin’s side before while he slept. Finally she nodded and rose to her feet, pausing long enough to touch his face and kiss his cheek. Loki stiffened, but allowed it.

Frigga left and Loki sat heavily in her seat, not looking at Odin. He drew his knees up and rested his elbows on his knees, folding his hands together and tucking them under his chin. He sat in silence for a while, listening to the very faint sound of Odin breathing. Finally, he gestured to the einherjar and dismissing them. They reluctantly left the room leaving Loki alone with Odin.

“I’ve been trying to… figure out what to do with this information,” he said quietly, “I can’t… I can’t figure out how I feel, beyond disgust at what I really am.” He looked at his hands, remembering the blue that lay underneath.

“The thing I don’t understand is… why would you let me grow up hearing the stories about them… about how monstrous they are… if you really cared for me? Why would you let me grow up hating and fearing them, let Thor grow up planning to kill them all, when all along I was one? Even if it is true that they are monsters –why did you take me?”

He looked at Odin as a thought hit him, “Unless you wanted me to grow up knowing that Thor would easily kill me if he found out what I was. You wanted me to be easily controlled when you put me on the throne of Jötunheim, terrified of Thor because I’d grown up hearing Thor talk about how he would slay all the monsters. But those plans no longer matter…”

As he repeated Odin’s words at him, Loki leaned forward, willing Odin to wake.

 “Thor put an end to your plans, didn’t he?” he hissed, starting to tremble as he slipped his hands through the glimmering spell that watched Odin’s vitals. “When we went down to Jötunheim, he ruined your plans to put me on Laufey’s throne. So all your careful plans no longer matter. You used to say that Thor and I were both born to be king… and now I know what you meant.”

Odin did not move, did not give any indication he could hear Loki, which only infuriated him. How dare Odin sleep when Loki was desperate to find some meaning from him, some strain of truth, of _love_ , from this arrogant king? It was unfair, unkind, and Loki had to say something to win.

“Well, the joke is on you Odin All-Father. Because I am king now, and though I will give it back when you wake, I will be king again… because for almost a thousand years I have been bedding Princess Sigyn of Vanaheim, and sixty years ago I finally married her on Midgard. When she becomes queen I will be at her side, with just as much power as any other ruler. And I will show you just how much of a fool you were to ever think lesser of me than Thor.”

Loki backed up, half expecting Odin to sit up and claw at him in a rage at this information. But Odin did not move. Loki felt himself starting to pout. He had been sure that information would have jolted the king out of his sleep. After all, he had just admitted he had bedded a high ranking woman long before he had married her –that alone should have sent Odin over the edge. The fact that it was Princess Sigyn, whom Odin had always intended for Thor, whom Odin had pushed Thor towards, should have resulted in an explosion of some kind. After all, it was practically an affair, Sigyn should have been off limits to everyone but Thor –no one else in the Nine Realms would be stupid enough to go near her while Odin had plans for her. Loki’s actions would have Vanaheim baying for war. But there was nothing, not so much as a twitch.

Quite honestly, Loki was bitterly disappointed. That had always been his biggest secret –well, long term –and instead of the big blow up he had expected, he got nothing. It was beyond infuriating. Plus Sigyn was going to kill him when he told her –because he couldn’t not tell her, damn it –about his choice of phrasing. Did he really have to say ‘bedding’? He could have said loving, fornicating… instead he said what was barely a step above the Midgardian word ‘fucking’ –which Sigyn did like using when she was of a mood.

Actually, he realised as he buried his head in his hands, he had not thought to cast a spell to hide him from Heimdall. His own chambers were permanently shielded. Heimdall was probably watching him like a hawk. Brilliant, Heimdall would have his skin when he got the chance. Heimdall was a Vanir, and they were bound by blood and love to their princess… and Loki had horribly insulted her. Sigyn was the only person in the Nine Realms who could get Heimdall to smile! The first time she had managed it, Thor had fallen over in shock.

He gave Odin a sideways look and then chuckled helplessly,

“I cannot do anything right, can I? I gave Sigyn my word I would tell you about us, I swore to her I would tell you I loved her, married her, wanted to be with her –I never cared about the throne, any throne, I just wanted her. And she just wants me. She does not even care that I am Jötun.” He looked down at his hands, white knuckled as they squeezed together. “I know I am a disappointment to you. I always have been, ever since I showed an inclination to seiðr. But… I am so good at it, surely it would be a waste to not develop it. And I gave you Sleipnir… and you love him. I just wish you could love me as much.”

The door opened and Frigga entered, looking weary, with Forseti and Kvasir at her side. Loki looked up at them wearily and felt them take a measure of him before Frigga spoke,

“I have made the council aware of our fears Loki.”

Loki nodded and stood, “He has not moved in all the time I was here, I talked to him… even confessed some mischief to see if that would rouse him, but that did not help.”

Frigga stepped forward and touched Loki’s face, looking up into his eyes.

“He will come back to us, in time. And so will Thor, and things will be as they ought to be.”

With Loki in the background where he belonged… and where he sometimes preferred to be.

“Until then, you will rule Asgard in your father’s stead. Forseti says you did a wonderful job today.”

Loki stared at her, feeling slightly light headed. He could not speak, and so he nodded, hoping he did not look as disconcerted as he felt. He refused to look grateful for the compliment.

“I should go, I want to do some research on Jötunheim.”

Frigga nodded in understanding. “Of course.”

Loki hurried out of the room, feeling eyes on his back like firebrands.

Frigga, Kvasir and Forseti were so busy watching Loki hurry away that no one noticed a tear slide down from Odin’s eye. 


	7. The Danger of Questions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki seeks answers from a dangerous source.

The Library of Valaskjálf was a beautiful bit of Asgardian Architecture, warm and inviting. Rows and rows of books beckoned to scholars like nymphs; Books on Asgard’s history, mechanics, technology, mathematics, seiðr, fiction and countless other topics. It was actually thought of as an excellent place for the early stage of courting, with the window seats overlooking a garden of flowers.

Contrary to popular belief, Loki did not consider the library a second home, he liked it, found it useful and beautiful and he enjoyed spending time in it, but he had his own personal library on his floor, full of books he studied and enjoyed. This library was just a library to him, and today it was proving to be quite unhelpful.

Loki growled in frustration as he threw another book onto the table. There was nothing useful in these texts. All of them were ones he had read before, but he had hoped that, with his new… _perspective_ on life, he would glean new information from them.

“Is this really all there is?” he demanded of the apprentice who was helping him.

“Y-yes my king, this is it. But it is as much as everyone knows about the Frost Giants.” the boy stuttered. He was only about eleven, and clearly awestruck.

“These were all written after the war, none of them have any real information about Jötunheim before –and there’s nothing on Frost Giant culture.”

“Wh-why would we need to know that?” the apprentice asked, moving to the table and organising the books into piles.

“Because they are a part of the Nine Realms, even if they are not a beloved part of it. For goodness sake there are more books and studies on Niflheim and Valhalla and they’re the realms of the dead!” Loki paced, and then frowned as he stepped back, looking at the high book shelves. He thought hard for a moment, then ordered, “Bring me the library catalogue.”

“If you seek a book I can get-”

“I want the catalogue.” Loki’s voice was strained with impatience, but he refrained from actively snapping at the boy. The last thing he needed was the boy whimpering to everyone he met about the mean king who yelled at him. The boy came back staggering under the weight of the heavy book that was almost the same size as him. It was… rather cute actually as he tottered along. Loki bit the inside of his cheeks to keep from sniggering as the boy heaved the book onto the table with a loud thump, slumping over it and panting for a moment before pushing himself upright.

“The catalogue your majesty.”

“Thank you. You may go now.”

“But-”

“I’ll put it back, now go on and get something to eat, it’s dinner time.” Loki dismissed the boy without looking up, but listened as the boy all but ran away. Blessed silence fell over the library and Loki sat down in his favourite comfy chair with relief, before opening the book. His fingers skimmed over the ink as he read the first page, then he pulled a pen and paper to him. He started going through the catalogue, making notes as he went, his frown deepening with every moment.

“My king?” Kvasir’s voice was full of surprise as he came into the library, “You’ve been here for hours, dinner is well over.”

“I’ll eat later,” Loki muttered, absorbed in his work.

“A king must be strong.”

“Questioning my strength Kvasir?” Loki asked lightly without looking up, “Was that praise from earlier just a lie for my mother so she would not worry?”

“No! Forseti spoke true.”

“So I surprised even you, the man who ‘taught me everything I know’?” Loki looked up, regarding Kvasir without emotion. Kvasir shifted on his feet, looking uneasy.

“That… Loki… you impressed us all.”

“I did nothing especially difficult, so you must have had very low expectations of my abilities.”

Kvasir sighed, stepping forward, “Loki, we simply worried for your more… mischievous inclinations.”

Loki set down his pen and sat into his chair, “You thought I would tease and taunt the people who came to me? You thought I would give advice to harm them?”

Kvasir paled. That was a clear yes, even as he said quickly, “We did not expect it of you… we merely were concerned it might occur.”

“I see.” Loki twirled the pen in his hand slowly between his fingers as he regarded his old tutor. Once, Loki had trusted Kvasir as much as his father and brother. Now… clearly he was without allies in this court. It was unsurprising, but bitterly disappointing. “Well, clearly I brought this fear upon myself… I cannot help what I am.”

And there it was. The panic, the knowledge, the sheer mistrust in Kvasir’s eyes, so deep in his mind, he probably was unaware of it himself as he stared at Loki in concern. Loki smiled faintly at him, pretending he was only talking about his love of mischief. “Yet… perhaps I can overcome my own nature. For the good of the kingdom of course.”

Kvasir swallowed, “Loki, I did not mean…”

“It’s quite all right Kvasir. I need an honest court. Lies are a part of politics, but I would not have them cause unrest among the men who will aid me in the running of a Realm.” There was a clear dismissal in Loki’s voice, and Kvasir was wise enough to obey it, bowing and leaving Loki alone again. Loki watched him go, and sat quite still for a moment, thinking hard about his situation. Playing at kingship was one thing, it worked for a day or two and Loki could show off his abilities and enjoy annoying those around him. However, if Odin was really going to sleep beyond the norm… Loki would have to stop playing.

If Loki could determine how long Odin would sleep, then maybe he could plan ahead. But how could he do that? Future reading was one of the rarest, most difficult, most unreliable forms of seiðr there was. Some doubted it was real, others believed that it was a deliberate form of self-fulfilment or blatant manipulation. Those who practised it were called Völva, and among them stood Loki’s mother, Frigga. The future could reveal itself to her when she wove with her seiðstafr, but she hadn’t done so in centuries, not after Fenrir. When Loki’s baby had been bound, Frigga had put away her seiðstafr, locking it in the palace treasury, because of the pain prophecy had caused Loki. It had helped Loki forgive her where he could not forgive Odin, because it was like cutting off a part of herself. Of course it had led to rumours that the All-Mother had stopped future reading because she had seen Loki do something awful, which had not been helped by Loki’s own malicious and vicious temper in the wake of losing his children. It had taken centuries to go away.

The only kind of future reading Loki somewhat believed in was reading the tapestry of the Norns. The Norns were somewhat like the gods the gods worshiped. Three entities that had no form, but were usually depicted as female, that were believed to weave the tapestries of life, where every individual’s entire lifetime from birth to death was already set out for them. Loki believed that even if a fate was woven, it could be undone. If true, no Völva would be able to ease his worries for Odin. What he needed wasn’t abstract seiðr, it was wisdom, wisdom beyond any living person in Asgard.

Loki sat up. Wisdom beyond any living person…

Loki quickly left a note stating in no uncertain terms was the table to be cleared of anything, and hurried out of the library. It was growing dark, the sun almost vanished beneath the horizon, and Loki ignored anyone who he passed as he hurried down into the Vaults. The Einherjar saluted him as he went through the door and broke into a full run.

He ignored the more prominent Casket of Winters, ignored it with all his might, and instead veered to the left. There was a side chamber here, where something of a more… unusual nature was kept. Loki pushed the door open, his kingship was worn like a second skin, allowing him access to everything Odin had been allowed.

The room was dark, and small, almost claustrophobic. An eerie blue glow emanating from the walls themselves gave just enough light for him to see there was a pedestal in the middle of the room. The object resting on it was covered with a black cloth. Loki stared at it hard for a moment, wondering if anything would happen now he was in the room. He was unfamiliar with how this… thing worked. Nerves crackled through him as he stepped forward and walked around the pedestal once, taking in every detail, not that there was much to see. Finally, he stood in front of the object and inhaled deep to steady his nerves before reaching out and tugging the black cloth off.

Even though he knew what lay underneath, he was not quite ready to see it, because his first instinct was to yelp, ‘Oh Norns below, that’s a head!’.

It appeared… rather fresh. Like it had only just been severed from the neck a few days ago, rather than before Loki was born. And it had a long, white beard. This amused Loki for some reason, he would have expected the beard to be cut along the level of the neck. The eyes were shut… honestly it almost looked like the man might be sleeping.

“Mimir…” Loki murmured. At the name the eyes snapped open and Loki stepped back in alarm.

“Thou speak with the seiðr of Asgard’s king, yet I have never seen thee.”

Despite himself, Loki bent his back and leaned forward, fascinated by the voice that came from the mouth. It was airless, no breath could be drawn, and yet the voice filled the room. Loki knew the mind within the head was projecting the sound. There was no voice box to create sound. He grinned a little, his love of seiðr easing his nerves. Then he remembered himself and said carefully,

“Odin sleeps. I am King until he wakes. I seek advice about his sleep.”

“Hmph!” The head snorted, and Loki’s grin widened at the sound, “You know so little of Odinsleep and yet you claim kingship?”

Loki licked his lips and said, “Odin has slept for more than a day. He shows no sign of rising. The queen says this Odinsleep is different.”

Mimir’s eyes were almost jet black as he looked at Loki. Loki held the gaze, trying to keep his breathing even. He needed an answer, and Mimir was the source of greatest wisdom, it was why Odin had enchanted his head to speak after his death. Loki could not help but wonder if Odin had hated Mimir, since that seemed a very cruel thing to do. Mimir smirked,

“The Frost Runt…”

Loki blanched and reared back. It was like everyone knew this secret, had been keeping it and holding it against him while he could do nothing about it. It was unjust to behave as such!

“I am Odinson, not Laufeyson. Now tell me how long Odin may sleep for!”

As Mimir spoke, his face twisted and pulled, exaggerating his expressions almost to madness, “If it is already past a day, there is no telling. The void of Odin is black and heavy. The deeper he has fallen the longer it will take for him to return. If he ever does.”

Cold shock spread through Loki’s body like ice as he asked in a faint voice, “Ar-are you saying that he really might not awaken again?”

“That is the risk Odin takes with the Odinsleep. Until now, the rewards have always outweighed the risks.”

“But… how can I know what it will be? How can I know how long he will sleep for?” Loki demanded.

Mimir smirked, “You can’t, Frost Runt.”

“Stop calling me that!” Loki snarled. Mimir laughed,

“You are the unwanted get of Laufey, blind to reality and fearful of the truth. It is why you were always passed over for the golden Thor.”

“Shut up!” Loki snapped, shaking as the laughter filled the chamber, building and building to a deafening ringing until Loki had to cover his ears. “I thought you were a source of wisdom, not cruelty.”

“Wisdom is for the strong, for the deserving. You are neither! I speak in a manner only you can understand, Liesmith Laufeyson.”

Loki pressed against the door, staring straight into the black eyes, trying to block out the painfully loud laughter.

“I’m not weak!” he spat, “I am of Asgard! I am! And I will prove it!” 

Mimir laughed, “You prove yourself a fool! Why don’t you run back to your Vanirian whore little runt?”

Loki grabbed at the handle of the door, using his seiðr to throw the black cloth over Mimir’s head and all but tumbling out of the room. He was left panting hard, trembling and furious. That head had called his wife a whore? How dare he? Loki felt his stomach turning and he pressed a fist to his mouth. It was one thing to call himself a Jötun, but to hear the slur fall from someone else’s lips… it stung and burned deep in his chest and he dug his nails into his palm. His heavy breathing filled the room and he looked around, taking in all the ancient relics that had been here since he was a baby, if not earlier.

His eyes fell on the Casket of Ancient Winters and he felt the burning intensify. He wanted to grab the blasted thing and smash it to the ground. He strode up to stand before it, ignoring the warning lights of the Destroyer sensing his presence. He looked at the Casket carefully, feeling the cold emanating from it. It really was an ugly thing, so… unAesir.

Loki thought about Jötunheim, the desolate waste that it was. Dark, dank, crumbling. He grit his teeth and hoped it would crumble to nothing, taking all the Frost Giants with it. He raised his hands slowly and held them close to the Casket, and gasped when his fingertips began to turn blue. Revulsion filled his body as the disgusting colour started to coat his palms like a disease. He pulled them away and watched as the Aesir illusion slipped over the blue again. He rubbed his hands on his shirt, as if it might wipe away the filth that lay under the pale skin.

_“Am I cursed?”_

Loki could hear his own frightened, weak voice echoing through the Vaults again. He could hear Odin’s quietly reply.

_“No.”_

_“What am I?”_

_“You are my son.”_

Loki inhaled sharply, knife like ice between his ribs as he remembered the words, stated with such conviction, but no pride, no love. It was a statement of fact, but not love.

Loki found himself crouching down, arms curling in front of him, hands limp and useless because he did not wish to lay them upon himself. He tucked himself into a ball and began to sob. All his life he had tried to get Odin’s attention, his love and praise. But he had never gained it and now he knew why. He had often dreamed that he would one day find out what it was he lacked so that he could fixed it and then he would finally gain Odin’s praise. Instead he had learned the truth… and there was nothing he could do about it. His blood could not be changed. He was filth, a monster and a disgrace, unwanted and unloved.

A dull pain echoed through his arms as he slammed a fist down upon the dark floor. He started to pummel the marble, choked sobs catching and spewing from his mouth as he willed the Frost Giant blood out of him. His skin split under the pressure and blood flowed freely over the floor. It was red, it was Aesir blood –why was it red? Jötnar blood was blue, wasn’t it?

_“You're my son... I wanted only to protect you from the truth...”_

_“What, because I... I... I am the monster parents tell their children about at night?”_

Loki lifted his head, feeling the weight drag at him when he looked at the Destroyer as it stepped forward, hesitant and uncertain. He stared at the empty face and realised that it was like looking at a child’s nightmare, faceless, unknown, but terrifying. And that is what he was to the children of Asgard.

Such a thought hurt in a way he was so far unfamiliar with. All his adult life, Loki had dealt with the mistrust of adults, but children had made it bearable. He had always had an affinity for them, sharing their love of games and tricks, and children loved his seiðr. The thought that afterwards they had gone home to hear about how Mighty Odin slew the Frost Giants so they could sleep easy in their beds… that they might have gone running to their parents in the middle of the night, because a Frost Giant was under their beds. If they ever knew that the Frost Giant had been sitting with them, magicking butterflies made of light into existence for their amusement…

Loki let out another broken sound and turned his back to the Destroyer, hanging his head and flexing his damaged hands, letting the pain anchor him. He watched the red blood drip down to the ground and pool there. He bled like Thor, like Odin, like Frigga. Why could he not be of their blood? Why could he not be Aesir?

He tried hard to be Aesir, he did. At least now he knew why he had always failed. But that just meant he would have to try harder, did it not? Now he knew what the problem was, he could tackle it. He was not like Thor, who faced almost every problem with the same answer. Loki needed to know what the problem was before he could deal with it. And now he knew. He was Jötnar scum. But he had been raised Aesir. He could ignore it, he could overcome it. He was Odinson, he was Loki and he was king. None of that left room for the blood of a Jötun.

Loki clenched his hands into tight fists once again and lifted his head to the ceiling, taking in the golden double barrel vaults above his head. He would prove to them all that he was Aesir, as Aesir as his father, as Aesir as Thor. He would show he was not argr or soft or weak.

He glanced down at the mess of blood and tears he had left on the floor and with a snort of disgust he waved his hand and cleaned it away. Then he looked at his hands and healed his wounds. It would not do to look like he had been in a scuffle. He clenched his now healed hand and sighed in thought. Seiðr was regarded with distaste by the Aesir, and it had always been the singular factor with which they mistrusted him. If he wanted to appear Aesir… he would have to wield his seiðr with care. But he would be damned if he denied himself the hard won pleasure of using it all the time. Seiðr was his most powerful weapon, along with his mind. He would not just throw them aside to please his subjects.

He would just… be less overt about them for the moment. Let them grow used to it. After all, Odin had used seiðr, but would never be accused of being unmanly. And Loki would prove the same.  Loki would show them he was a better king than Thor could ever hope to be. He had to. What else was there for him?  

It was dark when Loki got back to the library. Someone had left him a tray of food and wine on the table he had been working at. Maybe his mother. Loki grabbed the wine and downed it urgently. He wanted to drink himself into a stupor but he had no time for that, not when Jötunheim could launch an attack at any moment.

Loki looked down at the catalogue he had been perusing earlier and decided to finish what he had started there, before moving on. Besides which, he still had to write up those instructions about dealing with the nymph. Settling into some good research, he barely noticed the hours passing until Kvasir walked in and came to a stop in front of him.

“Loki, please tell me you haven’t been here since I left.” he said, faintly annoyed, faintly amused, very exasperated. It was a tone Loki was very familiar with from when he was young and had spent nights studying everything that caught his attention. Loki lifted his head and blinked hard at him, then looked outside at the sky. It was golden in the sky with the sunrise.

“Uh… not exactly. I went to converse with Mimir’s head at some stage.” He pushed some hair behind his ear as he sat back, then rubbed his face in exhaustion.

“What in the name of the Norns would possess you to do that?” Kvasir asked in shock.

“I wanted to see if he could give me any idea about how long Odin would sleep. So we could start figuring out what to do until he wakes.”

“And what did he say?”

Loki dropped his hands and sagged in the chair, “He said Odin may never awake… or at least it is likely he will not awaken for a long time.”

Kvasir nodded, as if he had expected the answer. “Your mother feared as much.”

“I know. I just… I just wanted some idea of time… so we could plan properly.” Loki looked outside and frowned with worry. “I’ll need to make an announcement to the court. They need to know things are not as they ought to be. Really they could not be worse in their estimation I would imagine.”

“If you think that is best.”

Loki looked at him with narrowed eyes. “You have a suggestion?”

“No, I meant what I said. If you believe that is the best course of action, I will not argue with you.”

Loki’s frown deepened, he did not like Kvasir’s words. But he just rubbed at his face again and said, “I will make the announcement after lunch. I need to do something first.”

“What would you like your lendmenn to do for you?”

Loki bit his lip, then said, “Go and have the court gathered. Have Tyr set up a full roster for the guarding of Odin… mother cannot stay with him at all times if he is not going to waken for years. Let her select the guards if she wishes. I already found and closed the portal in the Weapons Vault last night so at least that’s been dealt with. Oh and give this to Chief Adavaldr, so he can go deal with his nymph issues.”

“Yes your majesty.” Kvasir took the offered scroll and bowed himself out.

Loki rubbed at his temples and then got to his feet, gathered his notes and going to his bed chambers. He scribbled a note to Sigyn saying _‘Odin may not awaken. Thor still on Midgard. Still King. Very much Doomed.’_

He paused, then added as an aside, _‘Told Odin I’ve been ‘bedding’ you for centuries. Feel free to kill me when I see you next.’_

He sent the letter before he could change his mind, ordered food to come to him, and went to change. He washed himself thoroughly, then dressed as the food was brought to him. He sat and ate as he started scribbling a different series of notes. These were his quickly forming plans for the court while he was king.

Over the years, Loki and Sigyn had travelled to Midgard many times, and they had always wrangled their way into the courts of Europe, China, and Japan (once they had gotten into a kingdom in Africa, but had to flee when their illusion spell slipped). Between Midgard and the other Realms such as Alfheim and Vanaheim, Loki was very familiar with many, many different methods of running a kingdom, from Democracy to Absolute Monarchy and everything in between and around it.

Asgard was an Absolute Monarchy. This meant that Loki had the absolute power. His advisors were only there to help him make decisions, if he wanted he could change any law that he wanted, he could sign death warrants without a trial. The power he had in his hands was dizzying. He could, if he wanted, send the advisors packing and fill their places with his own preferred people.

If he had preferred people to pick from.

Vanaheim was much the same, which meant he had Sigyn to help him if he stumbled. The problem was he knew a lot of her advice would either just fail, or the Aesir would laugh in his face. Now only was Vanaheim a different culture, but the Absolute Monarchy of the realm was new. The intense connections of the civil war remained and this meant that Vanaheim’s monarchy was more personable with its subjects.

Asgard was much more aloof about its rulers. Odin was untouchable, unknowable, and people feared him as much as they revered him. That worked for a warrior culture like this, because it meant they respected him as king, lawmaker and general. They liked a practicality and severity that did not appeal to the Vanirians. They really were very different, even if they shared blood. Frigga had sometimes bemoaned the Asgardian way of doing things, which Loki had overheard while he clung to her skirts and watched the world with fascination.

So, here Loki was, all of Asgard under his fingertips, with the power to reshape the culture and the law as he saw fit. The problem was if he made the wrong choice, he would probably face a rebellion. He was already worried about traitors around him right now, he did not need to worry for more out in the land.

He would have to balance things very delicately. There were things he would like to change, some things that had bothered him for years, but he would not be able to at first, because the people needed to feel like things were not about to be turned on their heads, especially when the Jötun were on the verge of war with them. If Thor had taken the throne, it would have been a case of just replacing Odin with a younger version in their eyes. But Loki was so unlike the All-Father, and now he knew why.

Loki sighed and pushed his hair out of his face. He knew that in order to maintain the Absolute Power, one needed to spread out both privilege and responsibilities. So the advisors needed to feel secure enough to be loyal to him, but insecure enough to actually do the jobs Loki assigned them. Not alone that, but every day Loki would have to sit in judgement over people who came to him with petitions that could not be handled by the local law.

There was one small ray of hope in amongst this mess, Loki realised as he read his notes. If he really was stuck as the king for a few years, he would be expected to marry and produce an heir. Courts needed a Queen to go with its King, and while Frigga was queen for now, eventually she would step back for the new queen. And all Loki would have to do is play along and let the natural selection bring his wife into his arms in front of everyone. He could actually make Sigyn queen of Asgard.

It was a small ray of hope, far in an uncertain future… but it was enough to help Loki change into his best clothes and his helmet, and walk out of his bedchambers instead of hiding under his bed like a five year old. 


	8. A King's Reassuring Hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki must tell the people of Asgard about Odin's condition, and try to keep them calm about the looming threat of Jotunheim.

Before he told the realm, Loki knew he would have to tell Frigga what he had learned. Whatever his feelings towards her and Odin, he knew this was not something he could avoid. The Queen of Asgard needed to know that her husband was not going to be at her side for a long time. So he went to Odin’s chambers and found Frigga having breakfast by Odin’s bed, attended by her most trustworthy handmaiden, Fulla. Fulla dropped into a curtsy as Loki approached the bed. Frigga looked at him in relief,

“Loki, are you alright? You look so pale.”

“I’ve been in the Vault, speaking with Mimir’s head,” said Loki in a low voice. All the colour fled from Frigga's face.

“Mimir… you cannot trust that thing, it is evil seiðr, your father wove it in a fit of desperation during a dark time. Mimir is full of bile.”

“I noticed,” said Loki irritably, “Yet he is also a wise and I asked him about Odin’s sleep. He ought to be awake by now, yet he just lies there.”

Frigga gave Odin an uneasy look, then looked at Loki as she got to her feet, “And what did he say?”

“He said Odin has slipped away beyond the depths of his usual sleep, and that he will be a long time in coming back to us.”

Frigga swayed and Fulla ran to her mistress’ side, catching her.

“Norns below, say it is not so,” Frigga gasped, sinking onto the edge of Odin’s bed, reaching for her husband. “Odin… my husband.”

Loki drew himself up and walked around the bed and sat down on the other side of the bed. “Mother, he is not dead, as you said, there is hope. Odin will return, and so will Thor, and we just have to be strong until they do.”

Frigga nodded, stroking Odin’s hand, biting her lip as she gazed at his face. Loki hesitated a moment then leaned forward and rested his hand on Odin’s chest, feeling the pump of the muscle against his palm. He tilted his head and peered at the aged face, and for a split second he saw Thor lying on the bed and shivered. Inhaling softly, he whispered,

“Rest well, and return to us stronger than you ever were before father.”

Frigga lifted her head and looked at him with a new hope in her eyes. Hope that he had forgiven her and Odin for their lives. Loki decided it worked in his favour to let her think it. He was about to assume kingship of Asgard, the unexpected, unwanted, choice. The realm was probably reeling, only three days ago everyone had awoken to the absolute certainty that there would be a smooth transition from Odin to Thor, and that Asgard would continue in its golden glory. Instead, Thor had been banished, for life many would think, and Odin was as good as dead for all the use he was now. That had left the queen, beloved of her people but not a warrior, and Loki, the strange, second prince that spent too much time in the shadow.

To the people, it probably seemed like the sun and the rock of Asgard had been replaced by the moon and the water. Loki would need Frigga’s support in the coming days, she was the All-Mother, everyone loved her. So when she smiled tearfully at him, he returned the gesture.

There was a knock on the door and Abjörn walked in, bowing deeply,

“I beg your forgiveness, but Lendr Maðr Delling requests an audience with you.”

“Send him in,” said Loki, wanting Delling to see the image of the grieving family. As Abjörn fetched Delling, Frigga composed herself and sat on Odin’s other side.

Delling walked in and knelt to them as he entered the room.

“Majesties,” he greeted, “I apologise for intruding at this time, but Lendr Maðr Kvasir has informed us of your will my king and I have come to offer a suggestion about the announcement of Odin’s sleep for your majesty’s consideration.”

“Go on,” said Loki, staring down at Odin.

Delling hesitated for a moment, as if pondering his words, “I do not believe it is necessary, or safe, to tell the court the details or even necessarily the whole truth of the situation.”

“Are you suggesting I lie, Delling?” Loki asked with faint amusement.

“No, your majesty, but things are very precarious. We don’t want to risk your brother’s safety by telling anyone he has no power or strength, or where he is. Likewise, it may not be wise to reveal the true extent of Odin’s condition. We cannot let our enemies know that we are vulnerable.”

Loki eyed him carefully.

“Vulnerable?”

Delling tensed, “A new king is always vulnerable.”

“He is also strong because no one knows how he will act,” said Loki curtly, “As for concealing the truth, am I not Silvertongue?”

Delling nodded, “I don’t doubt your abilities. I just… what will you tell them?”

Loki considered the question for a moment, then said, “We’ll say that while Thor’s banishment was entirely unexpected, and Odin’s sleep came quicker than anticipated, things are not as dire as they seem. Thor knew he would be replacing Odin after the coronation because Odin was due an extended rest. In turn, Odin had prepared me to be Thor’s support as he adjusted to his new role, which was essentially preparing us both for the role of kingship. As for the situation with Jötunheim, it is still far too early to call it a war, and might easily be solved with a single encounter.”

“What of Thor? He is much loved in Asgard, as you are yourself-” Loki rolled his eyes, “-how are we going to explain his banishment?”

Loki sighed, “I will think of something. Now leave us.”

Delling nodded and quickly retreated. Frigga kissed the back of Odin’s hand and set it down. Loki stood up, staring down at Odin critically.

“I’d like you to come with me mother, when I make the announcement to the court.”

Frigga looked up with alarm, but something in Loki’s expression seemed to quell whatever she meant to say, she simply nodded, “Of course, just allow me to change into a new dress, and I will meet you outside Gladsheim. We can walk in together… as we always do.”

Loki nodded, he liked that idea. “I will sit with him until you are ready.”

Frigga nodded and left the room with Fulla right behind her. Loki sat down next to Odin, slumping against the elaborate headboard of the bed. He sat in silence, staring into space, sullen and tired. The einherjar stood still and quiet across from him, giving him absolutely no privacy, but Loki didn’t care for once, because he had nothing to say to Odin right now. Instead he sat there and thought about how this was more or less the exact opposite of what he had wanted. All he had wanted was for Thor to just see he wasn’t ready, to try and remind his brother –not brother –that there was more to being king than fighting and honour and feasts to glorify his name. Admittedly he had also wanted to make Thor suffer a little, but not so much that there was a chance Loki would never see him again.

What a mess!

Having given Frigga enough time to change, Loki gathered himself up. He bowed to Odin and then went to gather the wolves. The ravens had yet to return from their travels over Jötunheim. Geri and Freki followed Loki to the doors of Gladsheim Hall, where his mother stood waiting for him. He gave her his arm and banged Gungnir on the floor, the sound quieting any noise in the hall as the doors swung open.

The hall was full to bursting with men and women, nobles and warriors alike. He kept his expression impassive as he strode up the stairs with Gungnir in hand and stood before the throne. It seemed so much more impressive and daunting to sit in it now. Loki inhaled deeply, then turned to face the crowd.

On his right stood Frigga, with Lady Sif, Fandral, Hogun and Volstagg behind her. On his left stood the lendmenn and beyond both groups were the nobility of Asgard. It was strange, but he found himself recalling all the times he had entered this hall before, behind his parents, at Thor’s side, from the time he could walk. Many of the people here had seen him toddling down the hall holding his big brother’s hand, with his thumb in his mouth. He examined them all carefully, with a closed expression and spoke in a loud clear voice. He could not boom like Odin and Thor, but he knew how to fill a room with his voice.

“I am certain that you have heard rumours of some type or another regarding Odin’s sleep, Thor’s whereabouts, and why I stand here before you as king.” Loki swallowed to keep his voice steady but allowed enough of a tremor in so they would not think him heartless over the situation. “As you all know Odin must enter a seiðr induced rest to allow himself to recover from the strain of kingship, Odinsleep being the only form of true rest he allows himself. For millennia Odin has only needed one day to rest to regain his full strength and then he returns to us as strong as ever. However, it has come to a point where he cannot sustain that strength anymore, and must rest for an undetermined amount of time-”

People began to speak in hushed, panicked tones, Loki had to raise his voice to be heard,

“-in anticipation of that, Odin announced Thor’s coronation, and set about preparing my brother for the role of kingship, with myself attending the same lessons to lend Thor any and all assistance I could when he came to sit upon Hlidskialf. As you know, it was planned for Thor to be sitting here by now, and Odin would have retired to his bed, but recent and unforeseen events have caused our crown prince, my brother, to have forgotten himself in the heat of berserker rage, and unleash the might of Mjölnir upon Jötunheim. His actions were in direct opposition of Odin’s law, and direct orders and has caused King Laufey to declare war. For this, my brother has been sent away under a geis. Upon his fulfilment of this geis, he will be able to return to us.”    

Panicked talk filtered through the hall, and Loki heard at least one person cry, “We are lost!”. He rolled his eyes slightly and banged Gungnir, refusing to look more than miffed at being interrupted again.

“Your fears are understandable. But Jötunheim has ever been under the thumb of Asgard, and they do not possess the source of their truest strength. And even when they had it, they fell to Asgard. It was led by Odin, yes, but it was not won without the great warriors Asgard has always boasted. We are not going to fall to the Frost Giants.”

“They broke into our Vaults! How can we be sure they won’t manage to send an army the next time?” a man cried in a panic. Loki narrowed his eyes at the man who dared to speak to him without respect. He lifted his chin, squeezing Gungnir tight.

“I have tasked Lendr Maðr Kvasir with the job of finding any such portals as the Jötnar used two days ago, and any that we find shall be sealed, so they might never be used again. I myself found and sealed the pathway into the Weapons Vault last night. In the meantime we will attempt to stop any war mongering in its tracks, first with words, then with battle if needs be.”

“We should just eliminate them all! What use are monsters?” a woman called from the back. Loki felt himself pale a little, and anger rushed through him at the stupidity of the woman’s words. 

“Is that really how you would have Asgard viewed?” he barked, “As an overbearing tyrannical realm that crushes enemies with barely any truth strength under heel, even when the enemies are aggrieved by its own princes and warriors?”

Tense silence fell again.

“Regardless of what you may have been told as a child in your bed, the Jötnar are not going to sneak into bedrooms and devour babies because they are bored. Let us prove that we are above such childish fears, shall we?”

It did not matter that he had been thinking such thoughts only last night. It did not matter that the Frost Giants were scum of the lowest order, the Aesir would not give in to fear like cowed dogs. The Aesir were far greater than that. Loki stepped back and sat down, relaxing as if he were in the library and talking to Thor, and not like he was sitting where he did not belong. He glanced down at his mother, and was ridiculously pleased to see the pride in her eyes. It strengthen his resolve as he said,

“I know this is all very distressing for this court. We have been blessed with stability for so long, that such upheaval is almost alien to us. Yet we are a proud people, strong and resourceful and will not let these things defeat us. We shall mourn Thor’s absence, and the possible loss of Odin for a time, however long it may be, but we will not fall to ruin. We will endure, and remain the golden beacon of the Nine Realms, as we have always been. And I swear, to do my truest work to ensure this, as your new king.”

There was a beat of silence, when no one moved and Loki felt panic flare again. They couldn’t reject him now… could they?

Then Frigga stepped forward, climbing the stairs until she was halfway up, and pressed her fist over her heart.

“All glory to the king!” and she knelt to him.

Like a six year old, he blushed and had to force the blood from his cheeks as his mother smiled up at him. To his surprise, Fandral stepped forward and knelt to him.

“All glory to the king!”

Kvasir was next, and at last, the whole court began to kneel to him, Forseti and Tyr being last of all. Loki looked out over all the bowed heads and drew in a shaky breath. He had no choice, he had to do this, however daunting it might be. He smiled and breathed out.

“Thank you,” he said quietly. He then looked at Frigga, “Mother, you are still Queen of Asgard –I shall not place the title of Dowager upon you because it would be a cruel lie. Come and take your seat.”

Frigga rose to her feet and ascended the steps to sit near Loki in her own, slightly smaller, golden throne. She smiled at Loki and leaned to the side as the court rose to their feet.

“I will have to vacate this seat if you find a wife before your father wakes.”

Loki nearly choked. “One thing at a time mother.”

Frigga gave a tremulous smile. Loki shook all thoughts of his marriage aside for the moment, and banged Gungnir one more time. He could see now why Odin did it so much, it was fun when you were not the one jumping in terror at the sound.

“Now, let us try and keep to the routine of the court for this day, and tonight we shall have a feast to ease our grief for Thor and Odin, and hope that they will be returned to us as soon as possible.”

The court seemed generally pleased by these words and soon petitioners were coming forth. The first three were simple enough, but the fourth made him think ‘uh oh!’ before they had even spoken.

A man and a woman, the woman very, very pregnant, approached him, and it was clear they were not on the same side. The whole court watched with obvious interest as they knelt to Loki, although he almost told the woman not to bother considering she was so large with child it could not have been easy.

“Good king, I am Fasta Gudsteinsdóttir. I come seeking justice,” said the woman with carefully pronounced words.

“Good king, I am Hákon Hamrson. I too come to seek justice,” said the man.

“Well… that is what tends to be dealt here, rather than sweets and gifts,” Loki said with a little smirk. “What exactly is the situation?”

“Good king, I am heavy with child,” said Fasta. Loki almost quipped, ‘I thought that was a cushion!’ but held his tongue as Fasta pointed at Hákon, “His child.”

“I see… I shall go out on a limb and suggest you are not married?” Loki asked, wishing these petitioners would get to the point faster.

“We are not,” said Fasta.

“Not for lack of my offer!” Hákon snapped.

Loki realised at once what the problem was, but he let them talk it out.

“Your offer?” Fasta looked very offended, “You presented an offer after my father demanded it.”

“And you reject it like a contrary woman!” Hákon barked, “You come to me demanding marriage when you tell me you are with child and then when I offer it, you refuse it!”

“I refuse it because I will not sacrifice my honour and dignity further than I have!”

“Enough!” Loki barked, “Save your squabbles for a less dignified setting.”

Both fell silent and looked up at him entreatingly.

“I am going to make a fair guess at the situation here, please alert me if I stray far from the truth. You two were involved in an affair, longstanding or very brief, I care not. When you, Fasta, found yourself with child, you went to Hákon, with the expectation that the news would result in a marriage proposal, perhaps a desire for a declaration of love?”

Fasta flushed, but nodded.

“I shall assume that you, Hákon, were… less that welcoming of the news, and given your comment about ‘contrary women’ I would imagine you were less than kind about it. Then, when Gudsteinsdóttir’s situation was made known to your home village, her father demanded you marry her and uphold her honour. And you bowed to the pressure, offered her marriage, and she rejected you.”

Hákon scowled and nodded, “Yes my king.”

“And… you’re surprised by this?” Loki spread a hand lazily, sensing Frigga at his side looking at him sharply.

“My king?” Hákon asked. Loki chuckled,

“Well, you rejected her, offended her, and then you’re surprised when you’re browbeaten into asking her that she says no?”

“What does that have to do with it? I am claiming this child as mine, I will marry her, and I want you to tell her that she must!”

“I will not! My king, I ask you for help before my life is forfeited,” Fasta protested.

“Let’s keep the dramatics for a stage, if we could,” Loki said coolly. “It seems to me that you are a pair of children dealing with something neither of you was prepared to face the consequences of.”

Both Fasta and Hákon looked insulted, but neither of them spoke. Loki tapped his fingers against the arm of the chair, regarding the pair of them and ignoring the eyes of Frigga that were burning a hole in the side of his head.

“Fasta, what is it you want out of this?”

“I want my child to be cared for by his father. But I have no desire to be a man’s unwanted burden.”

“An honourable desire,” said Frigga with a gentle smile. Loki nodded.

“Indeed. But is it a practical possibility?”

“My king?” Fasta asked, frowning.

“It is all very well to desire honour, but honour will not feed or house you. And yes, I am well aware of the value of honour, do not doubt it, but the fact remains, it will not keep you living. How will you feed yourself? Is your family willing to house you after the child is born? The practical elements of this dispute concern me. That child is innocent of all your disputes, he should not suffer for your issues.”

“If she marries me, then it won’t,” Hákon stated.

Loki snorted to himself, he had seen the damage of a divided household that had been done to Sigyn, watched her weep and scream in frustration about her parents’ constant battle. King Njordr and Queen Skadi had married unhappily and had never forgiven each other for it.

“I cannot in good conscience order Fasta to marry Hákon when you are at such a battle stance each, with bruised pride and bitterness coming between you. Were I to order you to marry, you would both suffer for it.”

Loki steepled his fingertips and tapped his lips thoughtfully.

“Here is my decision. I want you two to remain here, in Idavoll and share a house for the next week. I want you to set aside your anger and your bitterness and see what remains. Talk about what you both feel is best for your child, what you want for yourselves and for each other. Come back after a week and I will hear what you have learnt. If you have come to a consensus, whatever it may be, I will allow it. If you have not, I will make a decision for you.”

Fasta and Hákon looked stunned at Loki’s proclamation. Judging by the silence around them, everyone else was surprised too. Loki wondered why, he was sure this was what Odin would have ordered too. He refused to look to his mother for reassurance.

“Well?” he asked coolly. Fasta and Hákon both bowed to him and backed out of the hall with a muttered,

“Thank you my king.”

Loki watched them leaving, then glanced at Frigga out of the corner of his eye. She was smiling at Geri between them, but Loki caught her eye and knew the smile was for him. He relaxed.

The rest of the petitioners were far simpler to deal with, usually with an obvious answer and Loki dealt with them easily enough. Finally, they were all done for the day and Loki was able to rise and leave the hall. Frigga accompanied him to the wolves’ chamber and made him pause in the room.

“Loki.” She put a hand on his arm and stopped him. Loki froze and looked at her in slight worry. The last thing he needed was a scolding from his mother for some failing of a job he was trying to figure out as he went along. Frigga reached up and touched his cheek, making him look her straight in the eyes. She smiled at him and brushed her thumb over his skin. “You did so well today.”

Loki was mortified with how happy her words made him and he relaxed, almost sagging in her arms with relief, “I did?”

“Yes. You really did,” she said, “Do not doubt yourself so much… your father would be very proud of you.”

That statement sobered Loki right up and he stepped out of Frigga’s hold. “Yes… good to know.”

Frigga sighed, “Loki…”

“I have to go, I want to look into something.” He walked out without looking back. As he walked he sensed a message from Sigyn and tugged it out of the magical subspace as he went.

_‘Killing you would be counterproductive after your confession. But you are getting punished –maybe that spanking I mentioned. You are not doomed. I shall be in your bed tonight to discuss the rest.’_

He snickered a little at the words, his mood pulling up again as he sent the message to the box he kept all of Sigyn’s letters in, and continued his way to the King’s State Chambers. It was actually the whole southern wing where much of the running of state was done. All those letters people sent were organised there, and there were dozens of workers there, all of whom answered to the King’s Lendmenn.  

Loki passed the table where the advisors would work with him and went into the letter room. Two men looked up and quickly bowed to him. Loki stared at them and then looked at the thousands of letters that filled the room.

“Please tell me you are not the only two who organise all these letters.”

“I am afraid we are your majesty.”

“How many letters come a day?”

“Sometimes several hundred, they come from everywhere.”

“And how do you organise them?”

“By ranking and urgency.”

“Ranking?”

“Well… if it came from Vanaheim, it will be put below Asgard. And a warrior will be put above others.”

“… I see. And where is Lendr Maðr Forseti?”

“Uh… Lendr Maðr Forseti your majesty?”

“Yes, you know, the Chief Advisor.”

“We have not seen him today.”

“Did he mention anything to you about going through the letters so they would no longer be ‘muddled’?”

“Yes your majesty, he did.”

“And he gave you two the job?”

“Y-yes?”

Loki narrowed his eyes in irritation. “I gave him the job, not you.”

“But he is a lendr maðr, this is beneath him.”

Loki widened his eyes in mock shock, “Oh, is it? I had no idea!”

The men looked terrified as he looked around the room, “Do your job as you always have… and one of you write out exactly how you determine urgency and ranking when it comes to letters for me. I understand the idea, but I want more information.”

“Yes your majesty.”

Loki turned, frustrated and irritated, only to spot Tyr walking in.

“Lendr Maðr Tyr.”

“Your majesty.” Tyr bowed as shallowly as he dared to Loki, but Loki ignored it for now.

“Come, I want a word with you about the situation with Jötunheim.”

“Of course.”

They walked in silence out into the gorgeous palace gardens, which were in full bloom. They came to a stop on a ridge, which looked out over the city of Asgard.

“What number of forces have we?” Loki asked at last.

“We have seven hundred einherjar, three times that in conscripts.”

Loki tightened his grip on Gungnir at the number.

“Do we know the numbers of the Jötnar we could be facing?”

“Not yet. It will of course depend on whether or not the other kinds of Jötnar will join forces with Laufey.”

Loki nodded. He was well aware there were more types of Jötnar than just the Frost Giants. There were Storm Giants, Mountain Giants, and Fire Giants. It was well known that they were all at odds with each other, but they might be willing to work together against Asgard. Loki squeezed Gungnir tight. Damn Thor… and damn himself. They had brought this upon Asgard. But of course it was Loki who would have to clean it up. Typical.

“What do you recommend?” he asked Tyr, looking at him out of the corner of his eye.

“We need to gather our forces. Idavoll City is the first place they will strike, so I suggest we mass the men at the gates.”

“Is that not a little obvious?” Loki asked as he surveyed the area. Tyr bristled at his side and Loki inwardly rolled his eyes before saying, “I do not mean to imply you don’t know your craft. I would only wish to make sure we are not taken by surprise, as we were at the coronation.”

Tyr grunted and nodded in acceptance. They were silent for a moment, then Tyr said quietly, “I thought you were planning for peace.”

“I hope for peace, I plan for war.” Loki looked Tyr straight in the eye. “I do not know why you distrust my intentions so Tyr. But that ends now. I am Odinson, and I have given my oath to defend this world.”

“It is less your intentions and more your methods I dislike so, King Loki,” Tyr replied coldly.            

“Ah…” Loki breathed, nodding in mock understanding, “My methods.”

He looked away for a long moment, then stabbed Gungnir into the ground and pulled his helmet off his head, setting it down next to the staff. He straightened up and turned to face Tyr properly.

“My methods,” he repeated softly as he advanced on Tyr. “Tell me Tyr… what has become of the great general my father has so often praised since I was a child?”

Tyr tensed, “My king?”

Loki smirked as he got very close to Tyr, revelling in being taller than him now, “I have been told so many stories of you. How you helped Odin lead the armies of Asgard to victory against the Frost Giants last time. How your wise council put down the rebellion of Svartálfaheim before a single drop of blood was shed. What has happened to that man?”

“He stands before you,” Tyr growled. Loki’s eyes widened a little as he grinned at him, shaking  his head a little,

“No… I see an old man, so caught up in the repetition of past glories that have been rewoven that you no longer remember that it takes intelligence as well as sheer strength to win a war.”

Tyr’s hand shot up for Loki’s neck, but he caught himself in time, and he reared back, looking rather shocked at his own reaction. Loki stepped back as well, disappointed.

“You know Tyr, I need a good general to help me win this war. But how can I do that when you, the supposed best choice, are so entrenched in your own disappointment and dislike of me that you cannot even accept a few taunts? Will you be like Thor then? Smashing dozens of people because one had the audacity to call you ‘little princess’? Is that what you taught us as children? To lash out and kill and harm whatever irritates you in the slightest manner?”

Tyr frowned at him, like he thought of Loki as a dog that might or might not bite him. “… no. I taught you to fight with honour.”

“Is honour worth more than life?” Loki asked softly.

“It is the greatest thing,” Tyr said with certainty.

“Greater than life?” Loki asked again.

“A life without honour is no life,” Tyr replied. Loki nodded thoughtfully, crouching down to pick up the helmet again,

“And how is it achieved?”

“Through death in battle.”

Loki pursed his lips in thought, then curled his fingers around Gungnir, “I see. Very well, Asgard will prepare for mass death then.”

“My king?”

Loki shrugged, “Well, if honour is only achieved through death in battle, then we must accept the fact that much of our men will simply bash until they are killed. No point in coming up with a battle strategy, we’ll just let them run headlong at the Frost Giants. They’ll all die, Asgard will fall, but at least they will have died with honour.”

“You twist my words!” Tyr snarled.

“No, I reply with equal blunt stupidity!” Loki snapped, “You cannot just shout HONOUR at the top of your lungs and expect that to be enough. What use is honour when you cannot live?”

“A true Aesir would never ask such a question!” Tyr hissed. The air temperature seemed to plummet as Loki lifted his eyes to glare at the warrior, who paled.

Loki’s fingers trembled as he grabbed Gungnir tightly and said, “You were once valued for your opinions Tyr. I see now that time as long passed.”

He walked forward and Tyr was forced to moved out of his way, allowing his king to pass. And Loki was king. He was Aesir and he was king and he would prove it.

Whatever else he did as king, he would prove himself an Aesir.


	9. Maternal Concern, Wifely Advice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frigga tries to comfort her son and earn his forgiveness. Sigyn offers her counsel to King Loki.

Loki barely contained his trembling as he made his way to his chambers. He had to get out of everyone’s sight for a moment, Tyr’s words were ringing in his head over and over as he walked. He threw open his chamber doors and slammed them for good effect, grimacing as he did because he knew it made him seem like a child. He snarled and threw the helmet away and then his staff, before looking up to see his mother watching him from a chair by the window with concern. Alarmed, he took a half step back, before demanding,               

“What are you doing in my chambers?”

Frigga stood up, “Can a mother not visit her son to ease her grief and offer him comfort?”

“Mother, I don’t like people coming into my chambers without my permission. You know that,” he told her unkindly as he threw the armour aside. Frigga watched the metal clang to the ground and then regarded Loki with a calm expression.

“Is all well?”

“What do you think Mother?” Loki demanded, “Frost Giants might invade Asgard, Odin sleeps away in oblivion, Thor’s own stupidity got him banished, and to top it all off, no one wants me as their king!”

“That’s enough Loki!”

Loki gave a start at the stern tone of his mother and he looked at her in disbelief. Frigga sighed, went to him and took his hand, leading him to the chairs and getting him to sit with her.

“I know you’re upset Loki, by all that has happened, but you can do this if you try.”

Loki shook his head, “You speak as if I am alone in this situation. But the fact is I am surrounded by people who distrust me, dislike me and can only see that I am not true Aesir.”

“That is not true-”

“Tyr just now accused me of not being a true Aesir.” Loki said heavily. Frigga tensed but did not reply. Loki pushed his hand over his face and then propped it up in his palm. “The frustrating thing is he is correct –in that I am not an idiot who is willing to die at the drop of a whim in the vain hope someone will sing my name in a few decades.”

“Have some respect Loki.” said Frigga, but her words were gentle to match her hand on his arm.

“I cannot have respect for something that is utterly preposterous.” Loki growled, “They spout nonsense! If it held any true meaning it would be one thing, but it does not. It is empty because we have lived in stagnation for so long.”

“Loki…”

Loki shook his head, covering his eyes, “Just leave me alone mother.”

“I cannot. Not when I know my son so well. You will sit here and brood over everything, turn every slight or look you once felt suspicious as evidence that people hate you. They do not. They are just wary, as any realm would be with a new king.”

“And what am I meant to do about it?” Loki growled.

“Be a king, the king I know is inside you. You are more like your father than you realise. And he did need time to learn how to be a good king, but you have learned much from watching him. Already you have made judgements he would make.” Frigga kissed his brow, “I know you’re still hurt about what you have learned-”

“Such a shock does not fade after a few days Mother.” Loki muttered.

“But Loki… there is nothing about you that has really changed.”

Loki snorted in disbelief. Frigga sighed and leaned on the arm of her chair, “Let me ask you this, what if you had found out that you were not mine and Odin’s, but that you were Aesir, say the son of a man who had fallen in the War and your father took you to honour him? What would be different about you then?”

“I wouldn’t be bred of scum.”

“Loki!”

Loki reared up and snarled, “You say it makes no difference, but it does. Whatever I am, I am not yours. And that means I have no blood entitlement to the throne. But worse than that… the Jötnar are monsters, you have always told me so. If you did not believe it, you would not have taught me to think that way. So what am I to do? How else am I to think?”

“Loki, we never wanted you to think that you were a monster. I do not believe your father ever intended you to find out.”

“So it was meant to remain a lie?” Loki shook his head in anger. “No, you don’t get to say that justifies it.”

“I am just trying to help.”

“Well you are not! The way I see things, you kept it a secret so that Odin could prove that Aesir culture could suppress any monstrous inclinations in the Jötnar. That your enlightened minds and justified hatred for the Jötnar could overcome any instinctual evil inside them. So that makes me an experiment.”

Frigga rushed at him as he pulled away from her and clung to his arm, “No! Loki, how many times do I have to tell you, you are our son! That is all there is to it.”

Loki pulled his arm free, “It is not that simple for me. And you can stress your feelings all you want, it will not give me any comfort.”

Frigga looked heartbroken as she leaned forward, “Loki, please.”

Loki shook his head, “No. Until Odin gives me the truth, I will not discuss it. You say there is always a reason for everything he does. That does not make it right or just or anything at all –it is just an excuse.”

Frigga swallowed hard and said quietly, “May I make one more statement?”

Loki nodded. Frigga stepped closer again, taking his hand. “You are hurt by the lies we have told, and perhaps the feelings you have about Thor have made you feel like we do not love you as much. Nothing could be further from the truth, and if you will consider this, I think you will realise it in your heart. Thor was born of my body, a much wanted result of our marriage, and we raised and loved him because there was nothing else to be done. We loved him because he has our blood. But you… we chose you. We looked at you and we loved you and we chose to raise you. You may be upset over the fact that we share no blood, but we loved you and that means so much more.”

Loki let her words wash over him, taking them in and weighing them carefully. He let his thumb brush over his mother’s hand, and then looked away.

“You speak of love… but I do not believe it in Odin. I was just a pawn, a failed plan… nothing else. And if love is in there as well… well that makes it all the worse. You say I am not a monster by my birth… but what about Fenrir, who was condemned to a life of misery because of his birth?”

Frigga’s breathing hitched at the mention. Loki swallowed and he pulled his hand away and stood up, looking out the window and idly reaching out to catch air and magically read into it, sensing the threads of power that kept the universe humming. He swallowed and closed his eyes, letting the universe sweep him up and fill him with a sense of pure existence for a moment, easing his chaotic thoughts. Then he let go and opened his eyes,

“I would like to be alone mother.”

Frigga was silent for a moment, then he heard her rise to her feet and speak with gentle warmth,

“Yes my king.”

Loki flinched at the obvious love in her voice, and stared out over the city until she was gone. He swallowed and went back to his chair, sinking into it with his head in his hands. His bedchamber door opened and he looked up to see Sigyn leaning against the door, arms embracing the wood as she smiled at him gently,

“Come to me my husband, I will reassure you of my love, which you know you can always trust.”

Loki paused for a moment admiring her form in gauzy, floating white material, with the same material in blue hanging from the back of her shoulder straps. She looked almost hazy, like something out of a dream and Loki felt such relief at the sight of her, “How long have you been here?”

Sigyn’s smile shifted to sheepish, “Let’s just say it’s a good thing you have a separate bedroom to your study, or Queen Frigga would have caught me in your bed… now that would have been interesting.”

“Well… that would have meant both of my parents were covered, oh, and Heimdall. Just your parents would have been left.”

“… Heimdall knows?”

“I… forgot to shield myself from him when I told Odin. So… probably.” Loki muttered as he got to his feet. Sigyn stared at him in disbelief for a moment, then asked,

“How long have you got before you need to go somewhere?”

“Technically I do what I want now, as King. But really I need to be at the feast we’re having tonight. So I have at least an hour.”

Sigyn held out her hand, “Then come and take a nap. If you’re forgetting to shield yourself from Heimdall, then you need sleep.”

Loki took her hand and pressed it to his lips, “You are being far too calm for all the foolish things I’ve been doing lately… didn’t you plan to spank me?”

Sigyn laughed and pulled him into her arms. “I’ve decided to give you a little leeway considering the pressure you’re suddenly under. Besides, this is how we work, I let you make mistakes, forgive you… which means you have no choice but to do the same when I make mistakes.”

“Except you don’t make mistakes.” Loki muttered as she led him to the bed and helped him out of his outer garments. Sigyn tapped his nose with a snort,

“You have a very selective memory. I have made plenty of mistakes in our relationship.”

“Name one.” Loki snorted as he crawled onto his bed and let Sigyn lie next to him so he could press his body along hers and rest his head on her chest, which he, not for the first time, decided was his favourite place in the world.

“Hmmm… there was that time I accused you of using me to get to the throne of Vanaheim so you could be an equal to Thor.”

“I recall very much enjoying that apology.”

“So do I.” Sigyn chuckled, her voice echoing in the ear pressed to her chest as her fingers combed through his hair. “So, what are you going to do about Heimdall?”

“Either ignore it, or find a way of making him stay quiet. I’ll… think of something.”

“Mmmm… my poor king. So many things to watch over.” Sigyn pressed a kiss to his brow. Loki almost purred as he pressed closer, snuggling into her arms and inhaling her smell. “Hmm, no one would ever imagine you were so affectionate in your touch.” She murmured fondly, “I like that it is only I who get to enjoy you like this.”

“Only you ever will.” Loki murmured, reaching up with a hand and caressing the swell of her breast. They lay on the bed, and Loki slipped into a half sleep, listening to the sound of her heartbeat. Loki’s hand trailed down to Sigyn’s belly and he idly rubbed it as he asked,

“What do you think of the Frost Giants?”

Her fingers still in his hair for a moment, before resuming their work, “… is this a trick question?”

Loki shrugged as best he could, “No. I’m just… I’m thinking something, and I’d like you to tell me your thoughts on the Jötnar first.”

Sigyn sighed thoughtfully, answering in a soft voice, “Well… I don’t know. I was raised on mostly the same tales you were. Jötunheim has become an unknown realm, only described in rumours and children’s tales. Tell me what you know.”

Loki thought for a moment, then extended his hand, summoning a book from his personal library. It was old, and had needed repairing several times to keep it intact. He held it out to Sigyn, and she took it.

“ _’The Children of Ymir: A Study on the Races of Jötunheim.’_ I’ve never seen this book before.” 

“I took it from Angrboda’s house. After Fenrir… and after I came back to my sanity, I went back to the house and took her library. I didn’t think you would be happy to know that, so I never told you.”

Sigyn wrinkled her nose and held the book between finger and thumb, “You’re right. I wouldn’t have liked that. The idea that you went back to that place-”

“It was something I needed to do. I needed to go in and leave on my own terms, on my own feet instead of being led in by Angrboda and carried out by Odin. The books were unique and useful too.” Loki looked up at his wife, seeing the darkness in her eyes. He lifted himself up and kissed Sigyn in a silent apology. Sigyn swallowed and nodded, sitting up and opening the book.

“This is about the Frost Giants?”

“It’s about the various species of Jötnar in Jötunheim, of which the frost giants are one. There are also fire giants, storm giants and mountain giants. It focuses on their biology and some of their culture.”

“You’ve read this many times,” Sigyn said softly, tracing a fingertip across the page. Loki shook his head,

“Not as much as it looks. I skimmed the part on frost giants back when I took the book, but really I only read about storm giants… I wanted to learn about my children’s other half. The book is just extremely old, written about four thousand years ago.”

Sigyn’s eyes widened, “Well before Asgard and Jötunheim went to war.”

“And from what I’ve seen of Jötunheim, the book is either inaccurate, or something happened to the planet. The book describes the planet as being as diverse as Midgard in its environments, but it looks like the sun is completely blotted out by permanent clouds. It’s an entirely icy world I think, just as we were told as children. I don’t know if the book is just wrong, or something happened to Jötunheim to change it –I don’t know what that could even be.”

“You have no idea?”

Loki turned his face away, “Angrboda preferred to teach me about seiðr, things that didn’t remind me about the outside world. And she never talked about Jötunheim, saying that as a storm giant, it was no longer her home. She wasn’t even really a giant, and said that storm giants are misnamed.”

Sigyn sighed and rested her head on his shoulder, turning the pages of the book,

“I always wished we could visit Jötunheim. It was so mysterious to me. I barely knew there were other species of Jötnar, only the stories about the great, frightening frost giants.”   

“So you think they are monsters? What does that mean for me? Am I a tamed monster, or not a monster at all? Am I neither? What does that mean about the Frost Giants as a whole?”

“You’re no monster Loki… so I suppose that means it cannot be a natural thing that Frost Giants are monstrous.”

Loki hummed thoughtfully, and Sigyn petted his hair again, “What are your thoughts?”

Loki’s voice became little more than a whisper. “If I am a frost giant… and I am not evil… does that mean not all frost giants are evil? And if it is… why are we so afraid of them? It cannot be because of their power, they are ants compared to Asgard in terms of power without the Casket, and that is with us.”

His fingers found some of her hair and he started to rub it gently between finger and thumb. “A part of me thinks that I should just eradicate them, do what Thor and Odin could not and maybe then I would be seen as the worthier son.”

“… Right?”

“And then I think that may just happen to go against Odin’s will considering such an attempt was what got Thor banished.”

“Mmhm…”

“I do hate them though,” Loki murmured, “The very thought of them turns my stomach, makes me shudder… all the things I grew up hearing about them. The idea that my blood is the same as theirs… that I am the son of their king… what am I meant to do with this knowledge?” Loki rolled away from Sigyn and sat up, pulling at his hair. “Really… what am I meant to do with it?”

“For now, nothing. Maybe in time you can find a way to reconcile the truth of your blood and who you are, but right now… you need to concentrate on the fact that Asgard is on the brink of war.”

Loki looked over his shoulder at her, “How can I do that when it is a war against the man that threw me away?”

Sigyn crawled behind him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, resting her chin on the curve of his neck. “What do you want me to say? What do you need me to do?”

Loki closed his eyes and leaned his head back onto her shoulder, “I don’t know. I just… I cannot face Laufey until I know how to handle this information and I don’t have that luxury.”

“Well, then, you’ll have to manage as best you can.”

Loki passed a hand over his face, “I would rather not do it so intimately. I’d rather...”

Loki trailed off as a thought came to him. It had been bubbling in his mind since he had first called for the library catalogue. He got to his feet and went for his notes in his study, gathering them up and rushing back with them, spreading them out on the bed before Sigyn.

“I thought the other day that knowing more about Jötunheim might make things easier, if I could know more about their culture beyond the stories Thor and his friends loved so much, maybe I would be able to handle them better.”

“A reasonable thought.”

“But I noticed something about the Valaskjálf library. Look at these notes, what do you see?”

Sigyn read over the ink, reading the lists and the math and finally she looked up. “Something about Aesir history outweighing Vanirian.”

Loki hopped onto the bed next to her and pointed at the work, “The catalogue has the titles and a basic information about every single book Asgard has in the Royal Library. What we have on the other Realms, would not cover a full book stand.”

“So? The Vanirian Royal Library holds all of its own literature.”

“But can you honestly say that only ten per cent of the library is about other cultures and worlds?”

“Well no, but we’re not Asgard.”

Loki pointed at her, “Say that again.”

“What? We’re not Asgard?”

“Exactly! You’re not Asgard. What is Asgard?”

“Your kingdom?”

“What more? Come Sigyn, tell me what you know I want you to say.”

Sigyn sighed, “Fine, Asgard is arrogant, isolated within the boundaries of its own self-importance. Yet we all rely on its strength and the Aesir know that.”

Loki grinned, “Exactly.”

“Where are you going with this?”

“I cannot face Laufey alone, even if I did not know of my blood connection to him, because I am too young and inexperienced. The second son of Odin is not exactly someone to fear. But others in the Nine Realms are. Like your parents and Banríon Aetril.”

“Yes, well, you know that my father and his people have always been loyal to Asgard.”

“But not as an equal,” Loki murmured. Sigyn frowned at him. “You know it is true, ever since the Aesir-Vanir war your people have never been on the same level as mine. None of the other realms are equal to Asgard. What use is that? How can we rely on you if you’re only loyal out of fear?”

“It’s always been that way.”

“Yes well, I don’t want it to be that way.”

“So… what are you thinking?”

Loki pulled at his fingers, paced up and down the room five times and then faced her, feeling slightly shaky as he spoke,

“I want to have a meeting of the Leaders of the Nine Realms, in one place, to discuss a more secure, and satisfactory, peace.”

Sigyn’s mouth fell open, then she laughed, “You are mad!”

“No I’m not! Just ambitious.” Loki bared his teeth in a fierce grin, lunging forward and grabbing her shoulder. “Think about it Sigyn. All the Nine Realms brought to one table, with the explicit goal of achieving satisfaction and peace.”

“Loki,” Sigyn touched his face, “I admire the idea, but I don’t know if it would be possible. For one, the Nine Realms include Midgard, and they do not know of the rest of us.”

“They are on the verge of it, are they not? I’m sure Thor has told them all about it.”

“Even so… what about Muspelheim? Are you planning on bringing Sutur to the table with the understanding he will not slaughter you? And what about Hel? Are you hoping she will feel inclined to deal with the rest of us, she, the Queen of the Dead? The daughter you haven’t seen for a millennium? Would you really want that to be your reunion?”

“… Fine, maybe the Nine Realms is not possible, but what about Asgard, Vanaheim, Jötunheim, Alfheim, Nidavellir and Svartálfaheim?”

“Asgard, Vanaheim and Alfheim is certainly possible,” Sigyn said thoughtfully, rising to her feet and pouring herself some of the honeyed mead Loki always kept around. “But the others… I don’t know Loki.”

“You don’t think the dwarves would agree to meet with us? When the potential for increase in trade is dangled before them? And the Dark Elves are always looking for a new way to strengthen their power.”

“But is that what you really want? To give those men more power?”

Loki sighed and began to pace up and down the room. Sigyn sipped her mead as she sat down by the desk and watched him pace. Finally, Loki turned to her,

“What do you think the Jötnar want?” he asked carefully. Sigyn blinked at the topic change.

“Want? Right this moment, or in the long term?”

“In the long term.”

“Who is to say? No culture longs for the same thing for eternity. At one stage, the Aesir longed to match the Vanir in power… now they excel us.”

Loki sighed, “Sigyn…”

“I’m thinking,” she told him curtly, “If I were Laufey… a defeated king who still held the power of my people in my hand… but was forced to watch their world crumble around them… I would seek vengeance, but more importantly, I would seek relief.”

“A way to restore Jötunheim to past glory?” said Loki.

“A way to make living bearable again… maybe even joyful.”

“So…” Loki prompted.

“So maybe there is a way to do that for them, without risking all out anarchy.”

“You mean be kind to them so they don’t try and slaughter this realm?”

“Exactly. Is a pet not far easier to manage when it is well treated?”

Loki frowned, “The Jötnar are not the pets of the Aesir.”

Sigyn shrugged, “They are not allies either. But it would be better if they weren’t enemies any more, would it not?”

“So… what do I do? I already suggested offering a wergild to them for Thor’s actions to the advisors. They… did not approve.”

“If you do that you’ll never be able to allow Thor to return to his place.” Sigyn finally looked at him with her shrewd amber eyes, “Is that what you want?”

“No… Thor is an oaf but…”

“He is your oaf,” Sigyn finished, smiling faintly. Loki flushed and muttered an agreement which made her laugh at him. “Silly boys.”

“I cannot think of a way to appease the Jötnar if not with a wergild. I suppose it could be that in all but name, that way I could spare Thor. I could make it clear I’m doing this because it is just, but Thor’s actions will not cost him his home.”

Sigyn shook her head, “You know that won’t work. It might satisfy the egos of the advisors, but it would prove to the other realms you are utterly self-serving and biased and while all leaders must be biased, you cannot appear to be so.”

Loki huffed and nodded. He knew all this, he had learned it alongside Thor, even if it was Thor who was expected to rule, Loki had been raised to be Thor’s advisor. But it was different, he had been raised to offer advice, not make the decisions. He crossed his wrists and leant them on the column of his bed, cushioning his head against them.

“What if I went with Odin’s view point?”

“Odin’s?”

“He said to Laufey that Thor’s actions were those of a boy-”

“An overgrown, magical hammer wielding boy.”

Loki cracked open an eye to glare at her, then continued, “If I allow for that, then the actions were neither an act of war, or outright murder… they were a mistake of a child.”

Sigyn’s expression warned of many, many sarcastic quips in her mind that she was holding back as she watched him. Loki flicked an index finger out and said,

“Wait, I’m thinking while I talk.”

“Think harder,” she said sipping honeyed mead.

“If, and I know it’s a big if, I can get the Jötnar to accept this idea, what if I then offered them something they could never refuse.”

“Like what? The only thing that I can think of you could give them is the Casket… and you’re not thinking of giving them that, are you?”

“… well not exactly. What if I wielded it for them?”

“It would mean exposing yourself as Laufey’s son. That would probably enrage Laufey so much he would kick through the fabric of space to attack Asgard, and Asgard would rather throw you from the Bifrost than have you as king.”

“… all right, some other way. Maybe I could siphon off some of the Casket’s power and give it to them?”

“A shard of the Casket?”

“Just enough to let them rebuild their homes, improve their living conditions. A starving beast will accept any scraps offered, won’t it?”

“But Laufey is not a beast, is he? He’s not foolish enough to just kneel to you for the offer.”

“But he might accept it as a way of putting Thor’s actions behind us, and we can move forward from there. It would at least stop the possibility of war, and anything else comes second to that, doesn’t it?”

Sigyn did not answer, and Loki flopped onto his bed with a groan,

“This is exactly why I never wanted to be king!”

Sigyn laughed, “Too bad, you married me, you’re Odinson, and you’re the son of Laufey. One way or another you were always going to be king.”

Loki groaned and covered his face with his hands.


	10. Animal Instincts and Political Scheming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sigyn tries to distract her husband from his woes.

Sigyn walked across Loki’s bedroom and stood before her husband with a faint smile on her lips. He was sulking on his bed, like a child, and yet as soon as he left his chambers, he would be tall and strong and utterly composed like a real king. There were many faces to Loki, and Sigyn had seen them all over the centuries. She had seen him heartbroken and desperate, she had seen him full of joy and playfulness, serious and anxious, angry and bitter. Thor was very simple in his emotions, he was happy, or angry, or sad, or some mixture of that. Loki was far more complex. It could make him exhausting, and Sigyn had sometimes enjoyed Thor’s company more when Loki had been moody, but only in the moment, and never for the stretch of immortal life. Only Loki could hold her attention for that length of time. It was as much his chaotic behaviour that she loved as anything else. At home her life was a ridged structure of unbreakable ritual, with Loki she was free.

Reaching out, Sigyn pushed some of his hair out of his face and then stretched her body over his, lying on top of him and holding herself up on her elbows so their faces were mere inches apart. Loki blinked up at her and smiled faintly,

“Oh, hello.”

Sigyn smiled and brushed her lips over his, pleased when he tried to follow her rather than pull away. While Loki still responded to her touch, she knew she could handle him, but if he pulled away, she would fear for him. Her husband was an unpredictable creature at most times, and the past few days exceptionally so. To have allowed the Frost Giants into the palace, just to spoil Thor’s day… it was a telling omen of Loki’s darker inclinations. His reason was not unsound, but Sigyn knew in the end Loki had acted on his own jealousy as much as his worries over Thor’s adequacies. And then to learn of his heritage…

Sigyn kissed him harder, hand curling against his throat, knowing that such a secret could have cost her her husband, but she refused to let that happen. Loki was hers, she would never give him up for anything. Loki’s hand slid down her back to cup the curve of her backside, pulling them closer together. Sigyn moaned and pulled away enough to push her face against his neck, inhaling the scent of him.

“Have we enough time?” she gasped against his skin.

“Yes. The feast is not for a while yet. What about you?”

“I faked a tantrum. We’ve lots of time.” Sigyn grabbed at her dress, pulling it up over her hips, “Here’s what you will do. Until I say so, all you will think about is me, how you will touch me, how you will pleasure me, how much you love me. Nothing else, do you understand.”

Loki grinned and nodded, reaching up to pull the shoulder straps of her dress down. Sigyn smiled with pleasure as his eyes cleared of darkening thoughts and turned to her. She had set him a task, and Loki would do it with enthusiasm. It would take his mind off his worries, just for a moment and then his brilliant mind would figure out an answer.

Loki’s lips pressed against her neck and she leaned into him, and Loki sighed softly, murmuring against her skin,

“That is one great thing about Thor not being in Asgard, and unable to return.”

Sigyn laughed as she understood his meaning, “No more interruptions.”

Loki let out a playful growl and flipped them over, “Exactly!”

Thor had a bad habit of bursting into Loki’s chambers unannounced at the worst possible times.

Sigyn moaned quietly when Loki found that spot below her ear and she quickly magicked away her dress so it would not get in the way. Loki let out a faint noise when she did the same to his clothes. He pushed her back against his pillows and loomed over her, eyes dark green with desire as he started exploring her face with clever, nimble fingers.

Sigyn kept her eyes open, focused on him, her own hands resting on his waist. Her thumbs stretched and she brushed the raised scar on his stomach. Loki’s breathing hitched as it always did when the sensitive magical scar was touched, but Sigyn was never afraid to touch it. She knew what had made it, and unlike Frigga and Odin who stayed silent about it, she never shied away from that memory.

_The sight of Loki so distressed, frightened and desperate, breaking through her own injured pride, her wounded heart, as he begged for her help._

_The cries of pain that fell from his lips as she had reached out with hands brimming with seiðr, to reach inside his body, to take out whatever was causing him so much agony._

_The shock of a tiny hand curling around her finger as she brushed unmistakable skin… inside Loki’s body._

As Loki started kissing his way down her neck, Sigyn found herself lost in the memory, no matter how hard she tried to stay in the moment.

_Her hair had fallen in front of her face, but she was up to her forearms inside Loki who was screaming at her to **‘rip it out, rip it out!’**_

_Steeling herself, Sigyn had gotten her hands around the wriggling mass and pulled hard, seiðr and sheer physical strength letting her pull the thing out of Loki._

_The absolute disbelief that had flooded her as the baby boy she had pulled out started to wail, high and clear like a cat in her hands._

_Loki’s eyes had widened in horror and shock as he stared at the boy._

_The two youths had been terrified and alone as Sigyn tried to heal Loki’s male body of the damage the baby had done to his insides, while calming both him and the baby as best she could._

_Loki had started to cry, terrified of what Odin would do to him for this –and swearing he had done nothing that should have created the child. His babbling and whimpering had led her to conclude that it was all that bitch Angrboda’s fault. A final parting gift from the dead._

_The baby boy had stopped crying, but there was a sudden noise and he had vanished into a bundle of fur. A shape shifter, just like Loki, but unlike Loki, it was triggered by fear. A tiny wolf pup had trembled in Sigyn’s hands and she had given him to Loki, who had held him carefully after some convincing. He told Sigyn of his other spawn by the half giantess, how they were both gone away… and maybe it was for the best._

Loki reached out and grabbed Sigyn’s chin, forcing her to look at him.

“Are you with me at all?” he growled. Sigyn blinked and then nodded, taking his head in her hands.

“I am here. And when I am not, you still occupy my thoughts.” She pulled him down to kiss him hard, trying to banish the memory of her heart breaking as she watched the whimpering puppy being taken from Loki’s arms by Odin. Of how small that puppy had looked, alone and bound to an island in the dankest part of Asgard.

“Ouch!” Loki yelped when she bit down hard on his lip. Sigyn tightened her hold on him, bringing their faces together.

“I’m here.” she growled. Loki’s eyes searched hers and he seemed to understand her sudden mood shift and he growled back.

“How am I not a monster if Fenrir was?” he hissed grabbing her wrists and pinning her down as she lunged for his mouth again.

“I never thought he was.”

“Everyone else did.”

“No one save for your parents and I know he is yours.”

“True, but just because he looks like a wolf, they think him a monster. And that thrice damned prophecy…” Loki bared his teeth and this ceased to be a game as Sigyn pushed up against him and tried to force him down.

“I think your father could stand to read some Midgardian plays.” she spat, digging her nails into his skin and dragging so bright red lines stood against his white skin. Loki snorted and managed to throw her under him again, holding her down as he began to bite and suck down her neck, peppering her skin with bruises. Thankfully, they would be gone before she left.

“Like Oedipus Rex?”

Sigyn groaned and bucked up into him, “Exactly!”

“As if he would ever deign to read it. He is just as arrogant about the superiority of Aesir culture as anyone.”

“Well then maybe you should defy him and set Fenrir free, show him to be harmless.”

Loki reared back, his eyes flashing like knives in the dark as he grabbed her and forced her onto her stomach. Sigyn twisted, curling up and getting her arms around his waist, pushing him until he toppled from the awkward angle.

“After all these centuries –I’m sure anything that was intelligent in Fenrir has been lost to animal madness.” Loki fisted his hand into her hair and pulled hard, so she was forced to let him go. Neither of them knew what they were fighting for, but there was no denying the satisfaction of it, the physical pleasure of drawing bruises to the surface of the skin, the releasing of the anger that rose and fell inside them as the mood took them.

“You won’t know until you try.” she snapped, biting at his fingers when he tried to touch her lips. Loki groaned and bit her on the mouth, holding her by the throat as he pushed her under him. Sigyn dug her nails into his back and felt the stickiness of blood welling up under them as she broke his skin.

It was such a far cry from their first, nervous, cautious embraces that Sigyn could scarcely believe they were the same people. But as they had grown so familiar with each other’s bodies, they had lost their fear and their discomfort. Sigyn knew what it was like to be male and take Loki as a woman, and as a man. Loki knew what it was like to be female and be taken, had taken Sigyn when she was a male. There was almost nothing they had not done, their seiðr growing with every experiment. If their magical tutors knew how much of their skill was based around more extreme sexual experiences, they would have been livid.

Almost a thousand years together had led them to discover new heights of pleasure and delight in each other, some of the highest intimacy like a careful joining of their souls, which require delicate and precise seiðr. But sometimes there was nothing better than what they did now, biting and licking and pulling like animals, no thoughts or considerations besides having **_now_**! No seiðr, no games, nothing but their bodies and their lust.

When Loki finally wrestled Sigyn under him, she felt close to flying apart, like he was the only thing in the universe keeping her pinned down and she grabbed at him as best she could when he came up behind her.

“Mine!” Loki growled in her ear, arm tight around her waist.

“Mine!” Sigyn snarled, arching back into him. Her hand flew back and grabbed his hair, pulling his face into her shoulder.

They moved sharply, urgently and Loki started muttering ‘Mine, mine, mine’ into her skin, while Sigyn was beyond words, pushing up from the bed as hard as she could, trying to bring them closer, tighter, together.

Loki shouted into her ear as they met their apex as one and silence flooded the room seconds later as they slowly tumbled back down to reality. Sigyn was trembling as Loki slowly lowered them both onto the bed, resting on top of her. Sigyn could barely breath, her head was swimming as her blood started to cool, and she had not the energy to even reach back and pat Loki on the head. His weight was welcome on her back because she felt like she might float away.

Then Loki snorted into her shoulder and she twitched.

“Uh…?” she asked eloquently.

“I’m not sure that’s what you intended when you started this,” he said, nuzzling her skin.

Sigyn inhaled deeply, then said lazily, “Fuck my intentions. That was much better.”

Loki laughed, “I love when you swear like a Midgardian.”

Sigyn chuckled, coughing when she lost her breath and then relaxing as she settled again. Finally, Loki heaved himself off her and encouraged her to roll over to be held in his arms. She pressed close, her arms crossed between them under her chin. Loki started playing with her fingers and he kissed her eyelids. He held her and she snuggled close, revelling in the safety of Loki.

“I could really free Fenrir?” he asked softly, though he phrased it as a statement. Sigyn was halfway to sleep, but she forced herself to awaken slightly to answer.

“Maybe… we don’t know what will happen when that collar is removed.” Sigyn hated that collar on her baby’s neck.

“Hrm… as Fenrir’s father, it is your decision I think,” Loki murmured with warm amusement. Sigyn, her eyes still shut, smirked at the old joke that had become an utter reality. Fenrir was not hers by blood, but he was hers in all the ways that mattered. She called herself Fenrir’s father with pride.

“Then I say you try. But wait until the Frost Giants are dealt with,” she murmured.

“As you command my princess,” Loki replied, running a slightly calloused hand over her arm and down her shoulder and back. Loki did not have the same deep callouses of Odin and Thor, but he bore his own and they gave his long, nimble hands a strength that promised to hold her up if she ever fell. Sigyn loved Loki’s hands. They could be strong and true when he held a sword or a dagger, or soft and gentle when he held a child, or nimble and clever when he was conjuring seiðr. “You should be at the feast tonight.”

“I could if you had thought to invite me. I could be ambassador for my people, paying respects. But you did not.”

“Damn, I need to write to your parents and Banríon Aetril to officially inform them of my accession.”

“Father will be thrilled,” Sigyn murmured, half asleep as she inhaled Loki’s scent, which was a mixture of ink, herbs from potions, and something heady that he swore was not perfume and she had never been able to find evidence to the contrary.

“And I need to figure out what to do about the Warriors Three and Sif.”

“The super best friends causing trouble?” Sigyn snorted, wishing Loki would shut up for a moment so she could sleep.

“They are loyal only to Thor, not to Asgard.”

“Then they are treasonous and you need to remove them from their position of power,” Sigyn said at once, feeling rather fond of the more cut throat world of the Aesir for once.

“I can’t just get rid of them. They would see that as proof of my guilt in the Frost Giants breaking into the Vaults. Besides, Thor would be upset and people like them.”

“Then play them as you have so often before. Or why don’t you send them away?” said Sigyn with a soft sigh.

Loki snorted, “Well I need some friends, don’t I?”

“Oh don’t say that,” Sigyn wrapped an arm around his chest and pressed closer as she hid a smirk, “You’ll break my heart. And you have more friends than those four. They are Thor’s friends.”

“I suppose so.”

Sigyn opened her eyes and lifted her head, looking at Loki’s troubled expression, “Please tell me you have not fallen out with the friends you have in this court, or neglected them because you’ve been running around looking after Thor so much lately.”

Loki did not answer and Sigyn groaned, taking his silence for confirmation. “What am I going to do with you?”

Loki blinked and then grinned lecherously. Sigyn snorted and gave him a mild thump on the chest. “Aside from that.”

“I do have friends… and associates,” Loki said after a time. “But what use can they be? I need to concentrate on the council.”

“Loki you can refashion the council as you wish.”

Loki let out a snort of disbelief. “Can I?”

“Of course you can, you are the king.”

“Father said the council was vital to the running of Asgard, and that the men he had picked were the very best.” Loki’s voice was prim and full of derision.

“Maybe when Odin picked them, but perhaps they are not the ideal choice now for you and for Asgard.” Sigyn shifted so she was resting her chin on his chest, looking into his face. “I know that you’re concerned with making changes because that will look like you’re taking advantage of the situation. But guess what my love,” She pressed a kiss to his pectoral, “That is exactly what a monarch must do. It is a two way system. You must adapt to care for your people, and you must adapt the environment around you so that you can do it the best way you can. You’re not like Odin, you don’t fit the Asgardian culture the way he did-”

Loki tensed under her and she smoothed her hand over his chest. “-but that does not mean you’re not Aesir. You’re different, not wrong. Use that to your advantage. I think you were on to something bringing the other realms together. Odin could never do that, he is not capable of it.”

“Odin is the All-father.” Loki said quietly, his eyes soft as his mind turned.

“And he is full of pride. He is wise, and he can be kind, but that does not mean he cannot be arrogant. He has rejected my father’s attempts to rectify the treaty between our peoples, stating that is it satisfactory as it is.” Sigyn fought a hiss of irritation as she thought about all the raging her father had done about it.

“Hmm, so you have told me before, though Odin has never spoken of it to me.”

“It would have been Thor’s business, not yours.” Sigyn sighed quietly and sat up, looking down at her husband. His skin had a sheen of sweat on it still, and the scars he bore were as familiar to her as her own. She could trace the outline of every muscle under his flesh, strong and lean as it was, and knew if she pulled at that stray lock of hair by his temple it would curl awkwardly and he would have to use seiðr to put it out of the way. She rested her hand on his stomach and skimmed it over the flat plain. “Think on it my love. You can decide who is on your government. Look at what you fear is damaging for Asgard and trust your instincts about it. Deal with Laufey as you see fit and then look to the future.”

She bent forward and kissed his chest, right over his heart and smiled when he pulled her closer and pushed so she would lie across his chest. She relaxed and allowed it, knowing she would be without his touch for a while, and she could only hope she had done enough to keep her husband from doing anything that would go against him.

“Soon you can declare your intentions to find a wife.” she murmured, sensing Loki smile at her words as he played with her hair. “And you shall find me first at the door.”

“Don’t look too eager. You’ll give the game away.” Loki chuckled. She smiled.

“Well, at least I can be sure you’ll pick no other.”

“As if anyone else would have me.”

Sigyn rolled her eyes, “And then… perhaps we will finally be able to undo the spells that have kept a child from us for so long.”

Loki inhaled deeply, “I long for that day. If only we could be sure my blood does not-”

“We shall deal with that when it comes.” she promised, resting her hand on his collar to still his thoughts. He inhaled again and his arms tightened around her. Sigyn smiled and enjoyed the warm silence of Loki’s bedroom. Everything would be fine.

Provided Loki did not do anything stupid.


	11. Bad Dreams and Big Feasts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mourning feast for Thor and Odin

“I need to go to the feast.” Loki sighed, pressing a kiss to the top of Sigyn’s head. “We must mourn the loss of Odin and Thor to something not unlike death for all we can reach them.”

Sigyn nodded, “I must get home, father is in a foul mood with mother and she refuses to go home.”

Loki squeezed her middle, “I promise, even if we do not get away to Midgard soon, we will get to spend time together outside this room. I’ll invite you to Asgard as a guest.”

Sigyn pressed back and tugged his arm tighter around her. “I would like that.”

Loki pressed his lips to her cheek and then they shifted out of bed, to wash up and dress. He conjured his bath to the tepid temperature he preferred and picked up a towel.

“Loki,”

Loki looked around as Sigyn wiggled into her dress. “Yes?”

“I have to go on a tour of the temples and perform important rituals for my father’s people. So I won’t be around for a few weeks.”

The bottom seemed to drop out of Loki’s stomach, but all he said was “Oh. Very well then.”

“You can still send me letters, as usual.”

“I know.”

Sigyn regarded him carefully, then said, “You’ll be fine, won’t you?”

“Of course. I’m practically built for politics, what with my silver tongue and all.” Loki gave her a tense smile. Sigyn sighed and walked over to him to kiss his cheek.

“I will see you soon.”

Loki nodded and watched as she walked back through the mirror, then he got into his bath. He washed his skin slowly and thoroughly, mentally preparing himself for the feast ahead. Loki could handle this. He could handle almost anything in social terms, even if he did not enjoy it. He knew though that he would have to face Tyr.

Loki’s blood boiled at the memory of what he had said. It would have stung before, now it was like a knife in the gut. He was Aesir! He was! Just because he did not like everything there was to be about being Aesir did not make him any less of one… did it?

All Loki wanted was to keep as many people alive as he could, what was wrong with that?

Loki slipped slowly under the water, letting it creep up his shoulders, his neck, his chin, until finally he was utterly submerged and staring through the water at his ceiling. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears and his breathing sounded loud inside his head.

Once, he and Sigyn had travelled to Midgard and given themselves the ability to breathe underwater. They had swam among the animals of the oceans, from fish, to jellies, to a blue whale and her calf. Loki had grabbed the mother’s fin and let her pull him along, until she had lost patience with the weight of him and had rolled over, effectively flinging him away. He had landed in a large piece of floating kelp that had been covered in sticky fish eggs and had been unable to wriggle free until Sigyn, bubbles all around her from her giggles, had come along and cut him loose. She had never let him hear the end of it, but Loki had to admit there was something very tranquil about being underwater. Provided you avoided the mermaids of course.

Loki’s lungs forced him back to the surface and he wiped his face, pushing his hair back and sitting up. His eyes glanced at his wrists and he became fixated on his veins, blue against his white skin. Jötnar blue.

His lips curled in disgust and he rubbed at them ineffectively, as if he might chase away the blue if he scrubbed hard enough. He gave his head a little shake as he realised what he was doing. He was being ridiculous, those veins were blue on all Aesir. The colour meant nothing, just as the brain was grey.

Loki leaned back against the side and closed his eyes in weariness. He had not slept since the night before. He must have been more exhausted than he realised because he felt himself slipping away into sleep.

_He was trapped inside an icy cage, so small and cramped he was forced to crouch inside. He scratched at the ice desperately, but at the touch of the frozen water, his hands began to change colour._

_“No!” he yelled, but his mouth did not open and he felt intense pain in his lips. He grabbed at his face and let out a wordless cry of horror as he touched his lips. They had been sewn shut. He tugged desperately on the thread, but it would not come undone._

_“What is this?” hissed a voice of cracking ice. Loki looked up and saw Laufey standing before him, looking down at Loki in his cage with a sneer._

_“We are giving back what was yours.” said Tyr behind Loki, and Loki twisted as best he could to see him. “We have no use for a bastard runt on our king.”_

_Loki shook his head in denial, no, surely his parents wouldn’t allow-_

_“Odin claimed him, he is his runt to deal with now.” Laufey spat, kicking the cage of ice. Loki toppled sideways._

_“Loki Laufeyson,” Odin barked, looming taller and grander than either of them, “Through your blood and evil heritage, you've betrayed those who would have called you family, you have defiled a Princess of Vanaheim, and you have failed to prevent war!”_

_Unable to speak, Loki screamed in, shaking his head and trying to break through the ice. His screams only increased when Odin dragged Sigyn forward by the hair, and threw her, naked and bruised to the ground.  Odin’s voice rang through Loki’s head as he tried to reach Sigyn, who whimpered and gasped from a knife in her side._

_“You are unworthy of these realms, you're unworthy of your title, you're unworthy of the loved ones you have betrayed! I now take from you your power! In the name of my father and his father before, I, Odin Allfather, cast you out!”_

_Sigyn lifted her head in time to look him in the eye, while Laufey and Tyr laughed in delight. Their laughter mixed with Mimir’s, and then with Thor’s and the Warriors Three, and Sif, and all of Asgard was laughing at him as he was flung from his wife and cast into utter darkness to fall for eternity-_

“NO!!” Loki sat up with a jolt and he looked around in a panic as he realised he was still in his bath and he was alone. Loki wiped his face with trembling hands and curled up as he let out a choked noise, tucking his knees under his chin and wrapping his arms around them. He inhaled deeply, clenching his fists as he tried to calm himself. But all he could hear was the laughter of Asgard and Laufey around him.

Laufey…

_This was all his fault._

Loki lifted his eyes as this crystallising thought came through his mind. This was Laufey’s fault. If he had never abandoned Loki as a babe, he would not be dealing with this misery now. If he had only accepted Odin’s word that Thor’s actions were that of a boy, Loki would not be dealing with this mess.

Narrowing his eyes, Loki’s fists unclenched as a simple thought came to his mind.

Laufey was the real problem. Laufey was the enemy. Therefore, Laufey had to go. 

And Loki would make sure he had that personal pleasure, for no one had more reason to hate Laufey than him. As his mind began to turn with ideas, Loki found himself smirking, feeling more like himself than he had since that Frost Giant had lain a hand upon him and revealed his skin change. Ever since that Jötun had touched him he had been in a state of horrified panic and distress, very unlike him.

Sigyn’s words of advice came back to him as he pulled himself from the bath and dried himself with the warm towel, before wrapping it around his waist. He went to his wardrobe and opened it, his eyes scanning his clothing as his mind pondered what he could do with Sigyn’s words.

The idea of forming his own council was very appealing. He could think of a handful of people he knew who would prove useful to him in such a position. However, that would alienate too many people too fast. His biggest issue right now was appearing as a reluctant king without seeming petulant. After all, it would look really suspicious if he started running around and changing everything he wanted.

That did not mean, however, that he could not start to pool his resources. He certainly was not going to listen to Tyr after the grave insult he had dealt him –at least Loki would let Tyr think so. If the old goat had any actual usage, Loki would take full advantage of it, but what he wanted were people he knew he could rely on, who would not fight him the whole way he went. That would require youth, not old men who were set in their ways. The hungry sons of long-time nobles would be a good place to start.

Tugging on the sleeve of a blue shirt, Loki curled his lip in distaste. He would not be wearing blue again for a very long time.

When they were children, their parents –well, their mother really –had selected the colours they would wear that would be theirs as princes of Asgard. The colour coding helped them be recognisable to the rest of the population, because Loki’s helmet wasn’t already distinctive enough –Thor had nearly died laughing when Loki had gotten the first one at the age of eleven. Loki wondered if Frigga was aware of Midgardian association of green with jealousy and had picked that as his primary colour to imply something. She had told him it was to show off his green eyes, and the black to match his hair.

Loki had been more upset at the time that Thor got silver, while he got gold. In Asgard where the streets were paved with it in some places, and Draupnir made more every night, it did not define wealth as it might in other realms. Even if it had Loki would have preferred silver, which was a far more magical metal than gold, which was very dead. Loki had wanted the magical metal. Thor had been pleased because it was the colour of real armour, and would match his sword, while his cape was the colour of blood, like the kind he would spill in defence of Asgard.

Thankfully Loki only had to wear green and black when he was doing official business and attending formal ceremonies, otherwise he would have gotten sick of the stupid colours centuries ago. Unfortunately that probably meant that he would have to wear the colours all the time now as king. Loki pulled at a green sleeve and already felt exhausted by its existence. Still, he had a duty to perform, so he took out the strong green, long sleeved tunic, the black trousers that Sigyn loved on him because they apparently gave her plenty to admire, and his green and black robe that had gold trimming. He decided to forgo his full armour, because this was not a battle or a coronation. This was a son and a brother mourning heart-felt loss, he was not meant to be seeking a fight, but remembering with fondness and getting as drunk as he had ever been.

Loki could hold his drink, better than Thor could, so that was never going to happen. But he could weave enough tales of Thor’s ‘great adventures’ he had been dragged on, sometimes willingly, sometimes not, and recall enough moments where Odin showed a grand gesture of a king that he would satisfy the masses.

As he dressed, he thought more about who he could actually make use of in the palace. Names started to form an orderly line in his mind in order of potential. Certainly not on that list were the Warriors Three and Sif. He had to get rid of them quickly, before they could do anything to cause him trouble.

He pondered the idea of mixing them into his plans for Laufey, let them die at his hands and then Loki could slay him, but he dismissed the idea. As tempting as it was when he thought of all the snide comments, the disrespect they had displayed, the sheer arrogance of them, he knew it would be an excessive action, and he could not take that risk. Besides, that sort of death would earn them a place in Valhalla, justifying their bull headed arrogance. Loki refused to give them that satisfaction.

As he strapped on his gauntlets, he smirked at the idea of pulling the four idiots down and smashing them into a wall of humility. How could he accomplish that?

Well, Odin might have been on to something with banishing Thor to a world like Midgard where the idiot could not just throw his weight around until he got his way. And it would get them out of his hair with little hope of them returning, but how would he manage it?

As he pulled on his boots, he thought about what crimes they could have committed to justify him banishing them. Well, he already knew they had spoken treasonous words, but only he had heard them, and with seiðr on top of that. No, that would not do. It would make him an argr tyrant in the eyes of Asgard. It may have been more cut throat than Vanaheim, but that brought with it its own issues.    

As much as he wanted to have them shamefully banished from Asgard to really hurt them, to get them back after all the things they had done to him, humiliating him for his skills, mocking him for his ‘shyness’ around women, sneering at his seiðr, his intellect, he knew he would not get exactly what he wanted… not yet. He could always wait for them to make some mistake he could pounce on… but he would rather see them gone quickly. So something else.

Could he get them to leave voluntarily?

Loki arched an eyebrow thoughtfully at his own reflection as he combed his hair back. Now that was a thought.

Humming a Vanirian tune he put his helmet on and held his hand out. Gungnir soared into his grip easily and he regarded his reflection carefully. He stood tall and planted his feet apart for stability, giving his best smirk and he decided he was pleased with the results. He always had been vain, but when you could not win attention by being made of muscle like Thor, Loki reasoned the best way to go was to be impeccable.

Thank the Norns he was tall for an Asgardian.

Walking out of his chambers he decided it would be best to fetch his mother. Regardless of their argument, he needed her support to be seen by the people around him. So he walked to her chambers. Entering her antechamber, he startled one of her maids with his arrival so much she dropped the washing she was carrying.

“My prin –I mean, your majesty!”

Loki smiled, “Calm down Hlin, I’m just here to bring my mother to the feast.”

Hlin blushed hard at his knowing her name, which was silly, because Loki knew the name of every person in the palace.

“Of course your majesty. I think she’s almost ready, shall I check.”

“If you would tell her I’m here.”

Hlin curtsied and rushed to do it. Loki watched her hurry away, eyes dropping to the sway of her hips and he sighed. If Thor were in his position, he would have a different maid in his bed every night because he could, and no one would dare tell him otherwise. If Loki were a different sort, he might do the same. He was faithful, not blind. The last time Sigyn had visited Asgard publicly, they had spent a lovely afternoon discussing which of the maids was liable to be best in bed. Sigyn had considered herself quite the authority on it.

Loki had to hide a grin at the memory.

Hlin came back out, curtsied again unnecessarily and said, “The Queen –The Lady… um, your mother says you can come in.”

Loki nodded, not wanting to make the girl any redder with embarrassment right now, and walked into his mother’s chambers. Frigga smiled at him in her mirror as one of her other maids brushed her hair, pausing long enough to curtsy to him along with the other women in the room.

“I’m almost ready my love.”

Loki looked at her clothing and said carefully, “You’re wearing the dress father favoured.”

Frigga gave him a tight smile, and Loki realised rather belatedly that while he had his own pain, his mother had hers. Her husband might be lost to her forever, her eldest (biological/only) son was banished and might never return home either. And she had also been dealing with a very angry and hurt second son who refused to offer her comfort in favour of sulking.

Well, not sulking, he still felt he was damn justified about his anger, and some of it was directed at her for her lies. Yet… she did love him, and she had not needed to.

Loki shifted his hand on the staff, and then said sharply, “Leave us.”

The maids all looked startled, but they obeyed, leaving the room with soft footfalls. Loki watched them leave and shut the door, and then turned his head to regard his mother, keeping his expression blank. Frigga watched him in the mirror, a tension in her shoulders belying her calm expression as he approached her slowly. Loki stood just behind her left shoulder and they stared at each other in the mirror for a long moment. Loki lifted his hand and rested it on her shoulder, brushing his thumb over the silk of her dress, and looked away at the frame of the mirror. It was the best he could do at the moment.

Frigga’s hand covering his fingers and her cheek pressing against the back of his hand told him it was enough for the time. Loki squeezed her shoulder and they stood there in silence for a few moments, and it eased something inside Loki that he had not been aware hurt.

Finally he pulled his hand away and said,

“The feast will be starting soon.”

Frigga nodded, “I just need a moment more.”

“I’ll wait outside for you.”

True to her word, Frigga was ready only a minute later and she looked radiant in the warm peach silk dress that gave her a warmth to equal her regal demeanour. Loki offered her his arm and she took it with ease. As the second son, he had often accompanied his mother to events, so this was a comforting familiarity. Frigga rested her other hand on his forearm as they strolled towards the Feasting Hall, Frigga’s maids following. 

“My maids are dithering over my title,” Frigga said quietly. Loki felt his lips curl in amusement as he recalled Hlin stumbling over what phrase to use. “They make a valid point, after all, I am your mother, not your queen consort. That will be for some other fortunate women.”

Loki nodded, imagining Sigyn wearing the circlet that was currently resting amongst his mother’s perfect hair. “Hmm, well Asgard has never had this situation before. I guess that’s what happens when you’ve only had four kings upon the since Asgard was founded.”

Frigga nodded, smiling thoughtfully, “Buri, Bor, Odin, and now you, Loki.”

“Well, no one will ever complain our names were hard to pronounce in the future,” Loki sighed. Frigga laughed quietly and squeezed his forearm. “I don’t think giving you the title Queen Mother or Queen Dowager would work, because they are only given to a widow, which you are decidedly not.”

“Queen mother merely states I am your mother, which I am, so I would be content enough with that.”

Loki pursed his lips and shook his head, “No, I don’t think it would be a good idea, at least not yet. I would not have suspicion fall upon you for supposedly easily accepting such a title. Everyone knows you would never give up on father.”

Frigga sighed quietly, “You are truly built for politics my son, so much so I fear you have no faith in anyone actually trusting you, or giving them your trust.”

“Let us not talk of trust right now mother, all things considered,” Loki said bluntly, looking away as he spoke. Frigga’s grip tightened on him.

“Very well, what would you have my title be? I’m not Queen Consort any longer, you will not have me as Queen Mother, or Queen Dowager.”

“Hmm…” Loki thought for a moment, and then got an idea, “Why don’t I make a new title for you?”

“A new title?”

“Yes, why don’t we give you something new? This is a new situation, so let us take advantage and give you a new title. It does not even need to be particularly clever, it just has to be different.”

“Such as?”

Loki grinned, “What if I call you by the title, ‘My Lady the King’s Mother’.”

Frigga gave him a look of confusion as they collected the wolves from their chamber, “What an odd title.”

“I think of it as accurate.” Loki grinned as he recalled the woman who had held that title on Midgard. She had been as shrewd and vain as himself, called Margaret Beaufort, mother of King Henry VII of England. They had got along brilliantly, until Sigyn had dragged him to a different court just to save her sanity. Margaret Beaufort had invented the title for herself, so pleased with herself for putting her beloved son on the throne.

Why would it not work for his mother, who had put him on the throne?

“Unless you have any objection to it, I would like to give you that title.”

“I have no objection darling. I would be proud to bear it,” Frigga reassured him, squeezing his hand. Loki smiled at her, nodding in satisfaction.

“Good, that’s settles that.”

They had arrived at the golden doors of the Feasting Hall, and stopped so the door could be opened for them. As they swung open, Frigga said mildly,

“All that needs to be settled now, is who will be your queen consort.”

Loki bit the inside of his cheek to keep from hiccupping in surprise. “Mother, stop. You’ll kill me.”

Frigga’s laughter was drowned out by the chatter of the hall as they walked inside. The court rose at once and bowed to them. They made their way to the head of the table upon the dais, which faced the other four. As Loki led his mother to her seat, his eyes fell upon the golden seat of the king. Normally Loki sat on his mother’s left, while she sat next to Odin and Thor sat on Odin’s right. He drew the chair out for his mother, and then regarded the golden seat for a moment.

“Something wrong your majesty?” Fandral asked from his nearby seat down the table when he did not move. Loki inhaled deeply and then said,

“This seat is to be mine until Odin wakes, but for tonight, I will not take it. Valka,” he called to a serving woman who nearly dropped her tray at being addressed. Loki suppressed the urge to roll his eyes, this would get tiresome very quickly. “See my father and brother’s places set for them, and I shall take my own place at my mother’s side.”

“Your majesty?” Delling asked in confusion next to his mother.

“The fact of the matter is, this feast is to mourn their absence, but there is strong hope for their return. I would have places set for them, to make it clear that we expect them to sit at this table once again in the future.”

“I think that is an excellent idea,” said Frigga, smiling.

“A most respectful idea your majesty,” said Kvasir. Loki did not deign to reply. Instead he stood next to the golden throne to wait for his place to be reset and let his eyes roam over the many, many people present. He spotted a few of the people he was forming his list of, and found his eyes drawn to the children that had been brought along, from babies to youths on the brink of adulthood. He shifted his shoulders, feeling the small cuts in his shoulder blades where Sigyn had dug her nails too hard and sighed to himself. She got lost in the memory of Fenrir’s birth as often as he did, maybe more. Together they had wept for Fenrir, plotted ways to free him, called down Ragnarok upon Odin and whoever spoke that prophecy about Fenrir killing Odin, and had sat in broken silence with the puppy, watching him grow more and more into the monster that the Aesir feared.

Loki blinked as he realised he was touching the wound that Fenrir had left him as a permanent reminder of his existence and origins, fingers idly tracing it through his tunic. No one else seemed to notice as his usual place was set and he sat down. He sipped at his wine, but found himself quite without appetite.

“My king!” Volstagg called next to Fandral, “Are you not eating?”

Loki, who had been frowning into the cup in his hands, looked up and blinked hard at Volstagg. His lips quirked upwards, “I hope you are not planning on challenging me to a contest again Volstagg.”

Volstagg turned a little pale, and shook his head, “Goodness no, your majesty. Not after the last time.”

Many of the people around them laughed. It had been quite a sight that day. The six of them had come back from an adventure where much energy had been spent between fighting and seiðr and they had come back to feast in celebration. It had started out normal enough, the only difference being that Volstagg and Loki had ended up next to each other and thus ended up sharing the same plates. Volstagg had eaten in his usual manner, but then had let out a cry of distress because the plate of mutton was empty too soon.

“Where has all the food gone?” he had demanded.

“Into my stomach Volstagg, where else?” Loki had sighed, reaching past Volstagg for some of the venison. Everyone had looked around curiously to see that the pile of bones on Loki’s plate matched Volstagg’s piece for piece.

“Brother, you have not eaten as much as Volstagg, have you?” Thor had asked in surprise.

“I’m not full yet,” Volstagg had protested.

“Nor am I,” Loki had replied coolly, continuing to eat delicately and without urgency, while Volstagg grabbed more fruit and meat and resumed his gorging. But by then, everyone was watching curiously, and soon it became clear that Loki was matching Volstagg bite for bite. Volstagg was incredulous, but had said nothing as he devoured more boar. Loki sipped at his wine, and then kept going.

It had become obvious that this was now a competition, but only Volstagg had had the gleam in his eyes of a challenge. Loki had just been bored and hungry, but he also did not slow down or pause for rest.

“Where in the name of the Norns is it going?” someone asked.

“Is it more seiðr?” another had asked.

“What in the world would the point of that be?” Loki had asked after swallowing his mouthful –Loki was nothing if not polite. “I’m just hungry.”

Volstagg had admitted defeat when Loki had reached for a whole dessert much to the shock of everyone around them. Loki had just kept eating his way through three deserts and then promptly fallen asleep with his head on the table, exhausted. Volstagg never challenged Loki to another contest of eating again. Thor had had to carry Loki on his back to bed, because Loki had been too full and sleepy to walk.

Now, Loki smiled faintly at the memory of that day. It had been very enjoyable to take part in an Aesir activity properly for once, even if it was just eating. It had also been a nice moment between him and Thor, as Thor had put Loki to bed, and sat with him while Loki chattered at Thor in a kind of food delirium.

If all Asgard cared about was eating, Loki could have won them all over in a day.

Sadly, the Aesir were slightly more complicated than that.


	12. Telling Tales

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki makes a little friend.

The feast was very successful, with people rising regularly to tell tales of Odin and Thor, about their great deeds and brave hearts. Loki noted no one commented about Thor’s intelligence the way they did Odin, and found himself smirking slightly.

Frigga suddenly spoke, and all eyes fell upon her, “I remember the day Thor and Loki were introduced to King Njordr and Queen Skadi of Vanaheim, and we were all introduced to Princess Sigyn. Thor was but nine and you and Sigyn were about seven, weren’t you Loki?”

“Something like that,” said Loki feeding Freki some meat and trying not to smile too much at the memory. He had already been writing to Sigyn for a year when they had met face to face, and the thrill of having such a clever and magical friend, so like himself, had filled him with excitement.

“Thor wanted to know why we had to meet Sigyn, and when I explained it was because she was the future Queen of Vanaheim, he assumed that meant she would be his queen and wife, and vehemently insisted he needed no queen.”

A ripple of amusement went down the table. Frigga shook her head, smiling, “When I explained she would not have to be his queen because she was of Vanaheim, not Asgard, he demanded to know why Vanaheim was not to be his as well as Asgard.”

Loki’s own abiding memory was listening to this explanation, while Frigga tried to get his hair, which had been impossible to handle when he was young, into some semblance of control and he had squirmed to escape.

“I recall that day,” said Kvasir, “The princess looked very tiny standing in front of her three madams before Odin. Thankfully Thor came to her rescue.”

Frigga touched Loki’s arm as she said with nostalgic sadness, “As I recall, he was his usual sunny self, which I think she found alarming and when he kissed her hand he got spit all over her hand.”

Kvasir chuckled, “Actually, now that I think of it, Loki, you were the one who wiped her hand clean.”

“I’ve suffered many occasions to have Thor’s drool on me, I saw no reason she should suffer too.” said Loki primly, a faint smirk on his lips. He hoped no one remembered that during the feast that day he had spilt his drink, ruining Sigyn’s dress, leading her to be whisked away by her madams, the Svana, and Loki had ended up crying behind this very table. Frigga chuckled, patting his arm,

“Oh yes, back when you were but toddlers, and Thor insisted on sharing a bed with you. The tantrums he would throw if he was not allowed to keep you with him at all times.”

“I think he saw me as a doll rather than a brother at the time,” said Loki, sadness in his voice as his eyes flicked to the empty chair across from him.

“I tell you it was always a worry if Thor was seen without you,” Kvasir’s wife chuckled, “If you were missing from his arms, we knew something was wrong.”

“It’s a wonder I learned to walk,” Loki muttered, taking a deep swing of his wine and feeding more food to the wolves. He ought to eat, but couldn’t stomach the thought, let alone the food. Maybe he was becoming like Odin, sustained by magic alone. Loki wondered if that meant he would have to endure Lokisleep. He sneered at the idea.

“Some of us wished you hadn’t,” Idunn said with a smile on her face, “Once you could walk with him, the two of you got into everything. At least when he had to carry you he was limited.”

Loki rolled his eyes in reply, then motioned for more wine to be poured, before saying, “All children grow eventually.” His eyes moved to Odin’s empty chair and he sat in silence contemplating it, thinking about his own children, without his hand in their rearing. It made sense for Hel, because she had suffered so much in Asgard just from her own body, that she had grown up in Niflheim but she had been so small when Odin had put her there to ease her suffering. Jörmungandr was a different story. He had been almost five when Odin had found Loki in Angrboda’s house, and had seen what Loki had done so Odin could find them. He had never looked at Loki the same way afterwards, understandably, and had spent most of his time in his snake form, rather than his Aesir form. Jörmungandr was more snake than anything else now.

As for Fenrir…

Loki sighed, pushing aside thoughts that tended to sink his mood faster than lead weights on a dead body. He drained his cup again and motioned to Valka to pour more.

“Loki, eat something,” Frigga murmured, “You need food.”

“I’m fine mother. Kindly do not talk to me like I am a child,” Loki said irritably. Frigga looked ready to reply, but Geri let out a sharp bark at Loki’s side, his haunches raised and his teeth bared at something under the table. Loki frowned at the wolf and then pushed the chair back to look underneath. A pair of terrified brown eyes stared back at him and Loki scowled, his hand coming out and coming down on Geri’s neck, forcing the wolf down onto his belly.

“For goodness sake Geri, calm down!” Loki snarled in the wolf’s own language, “It’s just a child!”

Geri growled, but remained still under Loki’s hand, accepting his place. Loki rolled his eyes and slid off the chair so he could reach under the table, he hooked his hands under the child’s arms, and lifted him out. The boy was wide-eyed with shock as he emerged from the shadows under the table and Loki held him up to his face as he straightened up.

The boy could barely be four years old, with thick blond hair and big brown eyes. He wore a yellow and brown smock, and little blue shoes. His expression was so comically alarmed that Loki chuckled.

“And who might you be, hm?” he asked the boy, “What is your name?”

“Th-Thundi?” the boy whispered, sounding absolutely terrified. Loki was hoping that was because of the horns. He decided to risk it and set Thundi on his hip, hoping the child would not set off at the proximity.

“Thundi, and where are your parents?”

Thundi considered for a moment, finger on his lips, then he almost threw himself out of Loki’s grip to point at the table on the far right, which had not noticed that the king was on his feet, or that the wolf had growled. In fact, only the High Table was quiet as everyone watched Loki with careful expressions.

“I see,” Loki said, ignoring the staring. “And what were you doing up here? Exploring?”

Thundi shrugged, then nodded. He was still wary, but was relaxing when he realised he was not in trouble.

“Find anything interesting?” Loki asked, deciding to sit down. Thundi sat on his lap and gave Geri a wary look. “Oh, don’t worry about him. He’s over protective.” Loki said easily, throwing the wolf a warning look. Geri huffed and rested his head on his crossed paws. Loki smirked, picked up a piece of mutton and offered it to the wolf, who ate it delicately from his fingers.

“You barked at him,” Thundi said loudly.

“I spoke with him,” said Loki easily. “Sometimes it is better to talk to someone in their language and not yours.”

“Oh… can I feed him?”

Loki looked down at Geri, who gave him a very nasty look in reply and he sat back, half smirking,

“That… may not be the safest thing to do. Only the king can feed them.” He lowered his voice and whispered in Thundi’s ear, “They’re terribly picky.”

Thundi giggled and smiled up at him, and Loki relaxed in relief. He reached down and poked the boy’s shoe.

“That’s an interesting colour for shoes.”

“I like blue!” Thundi declared with a grin, bouncing slightly on Loki’s lap.

“Do you? How come?” Loki asked, picking up his cup and drinking his wine.

“It’s all blue-y!”

“An excellent point,” Loki conceded, as Frigga chuckled next to them. “What else?”

“It’s the colour of the sky.”

“So it is.”

“You’re very green,” Thundi said reaching out and pulling at the sleeve of his tunic.

“Hmm, I know,” Loki muttered, looking at his mother who smiled serenely.

“Do you like green?”

“I… it’s not my favourite colour,” Loki said carefully, remembering where he was a fraction too late.

“What’s your favourite colour?”

Loki considered the question for a long moment, then said, “Amber.”

“What’s amber?”

Loki looked around and smirked, “See Lady Sif, sitting between Fandral and Volstagg there?” He pointed to the woman who stiffened as if expecting something unpleasant to happen. Thundi nodded, “See the necklace she is wearing? The stone in the centre is amber.”

“… Pretty!” Thundi decided, but it was hard to be sure if he meant the colour, or Sif herself. Either way it got a laugh.

“I’m glad you agree,” Loki said easily, hand resting on Thundi’s shoulder to keep him steady.

“You're the king now,” Thundi said, looking up at him. Loki met the curious gaze and nodded,

“I am.”

“Do you like it?”

That was such a loaded question Loki knew he could not answer it directly. So he settled for saying, “It keeps me busy.”

“Doing what?”

Loki hummed thoughtfully, then said, “Well, I have to make sure the realm runs well. And I have to make sure everybody is safe.”

“From Frost Giants,” Thundi said excitedly. Loki felt his smile slipping but quickly reasserted it,

“Exactly, among others.”

“My big brother says when he’s bigger, he’ll slay all the monsters!” Thundi declared. Loki hid a wince, remembering Thor making the same declaration. He felt like his neck was bared to any sword that wanted to swing at him.

“Well, he’ll need to train hard,” he settled for saying, adding for the benefit of the High Table, “Just like Prince Thor.”

“He will, he already has a toy sword he practices with.”

Loki snorted, remembering when Thor got his first toy sword, he had decided Loki would be a perfect practise dummy and had chased him around the palace for an hour before Loki had found their mother who made him apologise. “Well, be prepared for a few bruises then.”

A murmur of amusement flowed down the table from his mother on either side. No doubt most of the people here were remembering the same incident. Loki sighed, but decided to go with it.

“Thundi!”

Loki looked up as a woman, obviously Thundi’s mother, called Drífa, came rushing up the hall looking mortified. She curtsied deeply to Loki and said, “I am so sorry my king for my son bothering you.”

“He’s not bothering me, are you Thundi?” Loki said with a quick grin down at the boy. Thundi grinned and shook his head slyly. “In fact, I was just about to tell your son a story about an adventure Prince Thor and I went on when we were very young. If you have no objection?”

The woman shook her head, looking stunned. By this stage, everyone had noticed the small blond boy on Loki’s knee and were watching with obvious curiosity, silence falling through the hall. Loki looked around quickly and smiled,

“Good. Now, Thundi, have you ever heard of Utgard?”

Thundi shook his head and Loki sat further into his seat, relaxing and settling in for a good long story.

“Well, one day my brother and I were very bored, well, I should say, Thor was bored. I was reading, but since Thor considered that boring, he decided we ought to do something else. Needless to say, I did not get asked my opinion…”

The story was long, but part of being a good liar was being a good story teller, so Loki soon had the whole court under a spell of silent fascination as he talked about the various things they encountered, like what they thought to be a cave turning out to be just the thumb in a giant’s glove. Halfway through Thundi’s thumb had made its way into his mouth, and by the time Loki finished, the boy was leaning against Loki’s chest, blond head tucked against his collarbone.

“By the Norns my king, you’ve denied us!” Bragi said with surprise. Loki, who had been slightly lost in his own tale, blinked hard and looked around.

“Hmm?”

“All those years we’ve heard Thor and the Warriors Three and Lady Sif tell tales of your adventures… yet never once from you, and you can weave tales like that? You have truly denied us a treat!”

Loki shrugged slightly, unwilling to disturb Thundi since the boy was so comfortable, “Thor likes to tell stories, he enjoys the retelling of his adventures. Why deny him the pleasure?”

“Even so!” Bragi looked comically offended, “If I had known that you could tell stories so well I would have insisted you speak every night.”

There was a general murmur of agreement and Loki found himself flushing with pleasure, which he quickly stamped down. Frigga leaned into him and said quietly,

“I think your little friend should be seen to bed.”

Loki was loathed to agree. Thundi was a warm weight on his lap, making him feel less uncertain about his behaviour, and showed him in a good light to the court. However, he knew she was right and beckoned Drífa,

“I think your son best go to bed,” he said quietly, gathering Thundi into his arms and lifting him over the table into her arms. Thundi squirmed for a moment before wrapping his arms and legs around his mother.

“Thank you your majesty,” said Drífa, curtseying as best she could.

“Not at all, goodnight Thundi,” Loki said, ruffling Thundi’s hair slightly.

“…’night King Loki,” Thundi mumbled. Loki felt himself start slightly, but he sat down quickly and hoped no one noticed his ridiculously emotional reaction to the boy’s murmur. He drained another cup of wine to cover himself, but Frigga’s hand on his arm told him he had not hidden it from her. He refused to look at her, not daring to imagine what her eyes might convey.

Bragi rose to his feet and sang a song about Thor’s bravery and Odin’s wisdom. It was a typically long and detailed song, with rise and fall of pitch. Loki found himself pondering if he ought to introduce Bragi to the Bean Sídh, with her keening song she would probably fascinate him. The trouble was she was difficult to find, and was mute when she was not keening. In addition she never left her small island home on Midgard. Loki had once stolen her comb and had nearly gotten his hand mangled for the action.

By the time Bragi was finished, there was a sombre silence, and Frigga’s eyes were full of tears. Loki swallowed down his own emotions and touched her hand,

“Perhaps you should go to bed mother,” he said quietly. “No one would blame you for needing some privacy.”

Frigga nodded, her usually calm expression tense with the attempts to keep her tears at bay. “I believe I will. I shall bid goodnight to your father and then go to bed.” She leaned forward and kissed his cheek, “Good night my boy.”

Loki clenched his other hand under the table at her words, nodding once before getting to his feet. The court copied him as Frigga left her seat and walked out of the room. Loki frowned in thought, then said to Geri and Freki.

“Go and watch over her for tonight.”

Freki rose to obey, Geri looked irritated, but Loki nipped at his neck with strong fingers and he grudgingly got to his paws and the two followed Frigga out of the hall, much to the surprise of the court.

“You have quite a way with those wolves,” said Delling quietly. He seemed uneasy. Loki shrugged,

“Like I told the boy, I speak in their manner.”

“Indeed…” Delling smiled faintly, “Silvertongue strikes again.”

Loki looked at him in faint surprise, then snorted with amusement. “In a manner.”

The feast continued on, and Loki was pressed by Bragi into telling another tale. He chose a more recent tale, about himself, Thor, the Warriors Three and Sif. He was careful to emphasis each of their actions as good and brave, including himself, conveying that nothing made him happier than being a part of that group. Volstagg and Fandral looked deeply uncomfortable by the time he was done, Hogun was unreadable, and Sif had a slightly dimmed air to her usual dislike. Good. He wanted them to squirm.

Kvasir spoke up as Loki finished his tale,

“It would appear that you and Thor were a perfect match, as you always were.”

Loki frowned at him down the table. Kvasir smiled, “Thor has his strength and might, and you have your intelligence and seiðr. Together you are unstoppable.”

Loki raised an eyebrow, recalling his mother once saying that to them, but never imagining such a compliment from anyone now. He smiled faintly at his old tutor and said with some self-deprecation.

“Why, together we would make a perfect single king.”

Several people laughed, with Freyr saying, “Two boys, one throne, as it has always been.”

“Fortune favoured the realm of Vanaheim, giving them only one heir,” said Forseti with acid in his tone.

“Aye, alas that she is a woman,” said Delling. Loki curled his fingers tighter around his cup.

“Well, in truth, Njordr and Skadi were only going to make one attempt at it,” laughed Bragi. “Everyone knows their feelings towards each other.”

The table laughed, except for Loki, who knew if he held his cup any tighter he would break it.

“There is no rule that states Princess Sigyn will be unable to rule well because of her gender,” said Kvasir gently. “I have been in contact with her tutor since she was a little girl, she is well versed in law and history and politics. And I must say, she is always a delight when she comes to Asgard.”

“Hmm, when she’s not picking fights with Lady Sif,” Fandral chuckled.

Loki narrowed his eyes in irritation, but held his tongue.

“Still, it’s better for a woman to have a husband. Just as a king needs a queen,” said Delling.

Loki could feel everyone watching him and repressed a sigh as he looked around. He gave a lazy smirk and said,

“Well, perhaps I should just ask Princess Sigyn to marry me, and that way both issues will be dealt with in one?”

Everyone laughed in amusement, but Loki hoped the suggestion seeded ideas in at least a few heads. He drained his cup and gestured for more, suppressing a yawn. After over a day without sleep, the high stress of his situation and some much needed time with his wife that had left him bruised and cut, he was exhausted. But if he wanted to do anything about Laufey, he would have to do it fast, preferably tonight. Then he could sleep.

The feast dragged on for another hour, then, finally, people started to leave in droves, which gave Loki permission to rise to his feet so he could leave. The court rose to bow him out, but he barely noticed them, walking out as quickly as he could. He was lost in thought as he went, so he did not hear footsteps behind him until they were right on top of him.

“Your majesty!”

Loki stopped and looked over his shoulder at Kvasir who caught up to him and bowed to him. Loki regarded his old tutor coolly.

“What is it Kvasir?”

Kvasir straightened up and said, “May I have a word with you? In private.”

Loki took a moment to study him, trying to see what it was he wanted. He seemed sincere, but that told him nothing about what he was going to actually say. Finally, he nodded,

“Of course. Come to my chambers.”

Kvasir’s expression showed his surprise, but he followed Loki without a word. Loki sent Gungnir back to the Vault and pulled his helmet off, setting it on its usual stand. “So what do you want?”

“I wanted… to apologise.”

Loki turned to face him in surprise. “Apologise?” he repeated flatly.

Kvasir nodded, “I feel I have not shown the support I owed you these past two days. You’ve been placed in the most difficult position imaginable and you’ve managed it very well. And yet when I should have stood by you, I have hesitated.”

“And why would that be?” Loki asked in a cool tone as he went to his favourite chair. He did not direct Kvasir to sit and left him standing, they both knew it was a deliberate act. Kvasir, looking old with his greying hair and papery skin, sank to one knee and placed a hand upon his heart.

“Loki, I have been fortunate enough to school many young Asgardians in history, in politics, and even some in seiðr. Without lie upon my tongue, I can say that you were the best student I have ever had even above my own son.”

Loki felt a flare of delight, but hid it with a cold expression. No amount of flattery would win this for Kvasir.

“I confess that I have been wary of your accession, even though I know you did not plan for this. But my fears were not at your abilities, or even your… nature as you put it this morning.”

“Oh?” Loki asked, his fingers itching to pick up something to give them something to do.

Kvasir lifted his gaze and Loki could see that his old tutor was trying to pick the right words. Licking his thin lips, Kvasir said in a delicate voice,

“Two days ago, you set foot upon Jötunheim for the first time, encountered the Jötnar for the first time. And… I was afraid of what might happen.”

Loki frowned at him.

“I was afraid that, having been raised upon those tales of monstrous Frost Giants, you would be of a mind to decimate them. I was afraid… of things escalating, and as well as I know you Loki, no one can read your mind. I have been trying to determine if your words matched your intentions, and for this dishonesty, I apologise also.”

Loki frowned and shifted in his seat, letting his fingers rest against his lips as he looked at Kvasir and read between his words. Kvasir had been afraid when Loki went to Jötunheim, in case he discovered his heritage. Since Loki was impossible to read, Kvasir had no way of knowing if he had learned the truth or was just upset about his father and brother and was waiting to see if any action he took brought the truth to light.

“So… you did not trust me to act in the interest of Asgard,” he said at last. “You thought I would let my feelings get in the way, despite making it clear to me that such an action is that of a weak and selfish king.”

Kvasir looked up at him with some desperation in his eyes, “Loki, please. Whatever I have taught you, we are all subject to our hearts at times. I feared that… recent events might have been too much, for anyone, even you.”

Loki understood why Kvasir was afraid, but if the man would continue to lie to him, Loki would make him work for it. He certainly was not going to let Kvasir know Loki knew the truth. It would put him at a disadvantage.

“So you think so little of me and my emotions, that you think a face to face confrontation with monsters will break me?”

“I… Loki, you must understand there are things about the Jötnar that I cannot speak of, but I feared…” Kvasir swallowed and shifted so he was kneeling fully, hands resting on his thighs, head down. “I am sorry for my actions, beyond words I am sorry. Please, let me prove my loyalty to you.”

This had stopped being satisfying or fun. The sight of his old tutor, the man who had helped raise him, on his knees like a thrall, begging for forgiveness made Loki deeply unsettled.

“Get up!” he snapped, “I will not have one of my lendr maðr on his knees like a slave.”

Kvasir rose to his feet, and carefully met Loki’s eyes. They regarded each other carefully, with Loki not moving a muscle. Slowly, Kvasir smiled faintly and stepped forward.

“I promise you Loki, I am on your side. You were my best student, the one I am most proud of. And I am so proud of how well you have done with this situation, none of the advisors knew what would be best. Tyr wants us to crush the Frost Giants before they have the chance to make a move. Forseti thinks we should remind the Jötnar of our power, so they won’t take action. I disagree with both of them and so do the others. None of us can agree, but you have been firm in making a decision to try and deal with this peacefully. I know Tyr would sneer, but he has never forgotten the bloodshed of the last war.”

And perhaps he was also thinking Loki would switch his allegiance upon discovery of his real heritage. Even more of a reason to mistrust Tyr, if he thought Loki’s loyalties were so easily switched.

“I care not about the Jötnar, but I would prefer to keep our people alive. We have been blessed with Immortality thanks to Idunn’s apples, how would I dare disrespect that power by throwing away lives while I could keep them safe?”

Kvasir’s smile widened and he stepped forward again. “And that is why I have faith in you. And I do Loki, I swear it.”

Loki’s expression hardened. “Do not swear. I have little use for oaths. Prove yourself to me.”

“How?”

“By being on my side,” Loki said bluntly. Kvasir inhaled and nodded, reaching out and resting his hand upon Loki’s shoulder.

“I am on your side.”

“Then it should be no difficulty to prove it,” Loki told him, relaxing only marginally under the touch. With a nod, Kvasir stepped back, bowed and said,

“I shall leave you to rest now. Tomorrow we will need to look into exploring how things will work in Asgard now that you are king. In the palace and outside.”

Loki nodded, tapping his lip, “There is another matter I would have you attend to.”

“Of course.”

“Thor’s friends, Volstagg, Fandral, Hogun and Sif. I would have you keep a close eye on them. They are speaking treasonous words against me. I am afraid they will make things difficult for me because I am not going to shower them with favour.”

Kvasir’s expression tensed, “I see. What would you have done with them?”

Loki finally rose to his feet and started to pace, “I’m not sure. I can’t have them undermining me. But I have no proof that they are saying these things. ”

Kvasir contemplated his words, then said, “I shall see what can be done. Perhaps my son could help me.”  

Loki nodded. “Thank you my friend.”

Kvasir nodded in turn, “Of course, my king.”

Loki smiled faintly and watched him leave, before his face returned to its blank expression. It was all very well for Kvasir to swear fealty. But Loki knew how powerful, and how useless, words could be. Kvasir would have to prove himself through actions.

And Loki would do the same.


	13. Discreet Talks and Secret Deals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heimdall gets an unexpected visitor and Loki puts his plans for Laufey into motion.

Heimdall prided himself on being able to see any and all that went on in the universe. That was why it enraged him to have let the Jötnar slip past him. It was made worse because he was certain Loki was the one who had let them in. The prince had made it his life’s work to evade Heimdall’s gaze, and now that he was king, there was nothing Heimdall could do about it. Kings could not be accused of treasons and Heimdall had been a servant of Asgard long enough to know that the golden realm could not afford any more upheaval. No, such accusations would have to wait until Odin awoke, and then it might not matter.

However, his rage and frustration over the Jötnar was nothing in comparison to the anger that fill him as he watch that bastard runt Loki hiss venom in Odin’s ear about the Princess of Vanaheim. How dare he speak in such terms about the sacred Crown Princess! The Crown Princess embodied Vanaheim itself, and only the most worthy of men would be entitled to vie for her hand. The marriage of the Crown Princess would be a sacred marriage, honourable and just. So the very idea that Loki, that Jötun runt, that sneaky, cunning and silver-tongued second son, would be permitted to touch her sent rolls of fury through Heimdall’s body.

Once Odin awoke, Heimdall would see Loki pay for his words.

As these thoughts moved through Heimdall’s mind, he sensed someone behind him and immediately spun around, swinging his sword. A dagger came up and stayed the sword just enough for Heimdall, upon seeing who it was, to jerk the sword back and reel in alarm.

“Really Heimdall, you try to harm me?” Princess Sigyn demanded.

Heimdall knelt to his princess at once. “Mikilfengleg Kona,” he uttered one of her titles. “I did not know it was you.”

“I know. You seem to be missing much these days Heimdall.”

Heimdall did not dare lift his eyes, but he could sense the power surging in his princess. “What would you have of me?”

“Rise Heimdall, I would look at your eyes while I speak.”

Heimdall did as she bid, clasping his sword between his hands and facing her. She was resplendent in an ice-blue dress, with her hair caught up in an elaborate braiding that only a princess could wear, with a circlet of silver and gemstones upon her brow. Her eyes, much like his own, were clear and intent amber. At her hips she wore a girdle upon which rested both a dagger and a distaff, and in her hand she held a staff of silver and ash. She was dressed for her role as High Priestess. Yes, Heimdall remembered, it was time for the Festival of Foam, one of the most important rituals for the Mjola people of Vanaheim.  

Sigyn rested her hand on the hilt of the dagger and said, “I believe you have been listening to words spoken by a silver tongue poisoned by pain.”

Heimdall kept his surprise from his face, “I heard his lies.”

“He claimed in Odin’s ear to have bedded me.”

“Yes, Mikilfengleg Kona, he did.”

Sigyn smirked, “And I am certain like a true man of Vanaheim, you are outraged at this slight against my honour.”

“I am,” Heimdall replied, squeezing his hands around the hilt of his sword.

Sigyn’s smirk softened into a smile and she stepped forward, reaching up and touching his cheek. Heimdall wanted to kneel again. Only the most worthy would be touched by the princess.

“Then I would have you hear me now Heimdall, and take my words to heart.”

“Of course.”

Sigyn’s face shifted from a smile to an intense expression of seriousness, a far cry from the little girl Heimdall recalled. “Loki may have spoken stupidly. But he spoke no lies. You would be amazed how often he uses the truth, he just knows how to wield it. He and I have been lovers for centuries, since we were in our forties, and we have been married for decades.”

Rage flooded Heimdall and he snarled before he could stop himself, “He has dishonoured you!”

“He has filled me with honour!” Sigyn snapped, “He has never laid hand upon me I did not expressly invite. And I tell you now Heimdall, I will always express such invitation. Loki is my lover and my husband, and he will always be so. And if you stand against him, you stand against me, and that leaves you abandoning both your king and your Crown Princess, and that will leave you without honour.”

Her dagger was at his throat, the point grazing his windpipe, but there was no rage in her gaze, only determination and certainty. Her voice was soft as she murmured,

“The great Heimdall, known as a man all should fear, yet Odin never had cause. And why was that?”

Heimdall stood absolutely still, “Because I am loyal to him.”

“You are loyal to your king! And that is Loki now. And if you will not be loyal to him, then you will be loyal to me. And if you are loyal to me, you will be loyal to my husband.”

Heimdall may have found his gaze failing him lately, but he could easily see the passion in Sigyn’s eyes, the devotion and love she felt for Loki. Heimdall wondered what his princess had seen in the prince that had enveloped her so.

“Yes, Mikilfengleg Kona, I understand.”

“You understand, but you do not approve,” Sigyn said with a snort, pulling her dagger away from his skin, “But you… you have only ever seen the bad side to him. You, who still follow the Mjola way of idolising and protecting your princess, but who have become so contaminated by Aesir culture you do not see the greatness within him.”

Heimdall did not answer, only regarded his princess with careful eyes. Sigyn sighed as she looked him up and down, then she smiled faintly.

“You will see. I know you will.”

“If you knew what he was…” Heimdall began before trailing off and wondering if he could break his oath to Odin to warn his princess of what she had married. To his surprise, Sigyn’s face twisted into a furious snarl,

“I know exactly what he is, and I don’t care!”

Heimdall’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly. If she knew, then Loki must have told her. Heimdall, of course, knew Loki had discovered the truth about his heritage. He had watched Loki rage and weep over it. It had only put Heimdall more on edge. Who knew what Loki would do with this knowledge? But that he had told Sigyn… it was an honesty Heimdall did not expect of him.

“Do you understand now Heimdall?” Sigyn asked in a low voice. “There is nothing that will drive me from Loki, nothing he can do, nothing you can say that will keep me from him. And if you were to ask him, he would say the same.”

Heimdall squeezed his hilt harder, knowing nothing he said would make her think otherwise.

“Yes Mikilfengleg Kona.”

Sigyn smiled and put her dagger away, “Good Heimdall, it is good to know you can always be counted upon to do what is right –especially when what is right may fly in the face of tradition.”

Heimdall nodded, deeply troubled.

“Now, before I get back to Vanaheim-”

“How did you get here, your highness?”

Sigyn smirked playfully. “That would be telling Heimdall.”

Heimdall’s dislike for this situation only grew.

“Now, I would have you do one more thing for me.”

“Yes?”

“Cast your gaze upon the Warrior’s Three and Lady Sif. I have a task for you.”  

**~*~**

Casting a spell to hide himself from Heimdall, Loki made his way into the Vaults and into the hidden corner where he had made the portal between Asgard and Jötunheim. With delicate fingers, he reopened it and clambered into the portal, striding down and then slipping and sliding through the portal, which was not unlike a smooth tunnel made of black slick, he landed in Jötunheim. He quickly cast spells to cloak him to all eyes and started making his way into the city where all this trouble had started. Loki was still debating if it was himself or Thor who was to blame there.

As he slipped from shadow to shadow, Loki found himself taking in the sheer size of the city, and wondered if, perhaps once, it had been magnificent. Now it was more like a skeleton, bare bones of buildings lying across the ground. Loki could see frost giants moving around, furtive forms skulking around, or sitting motionless, eyes staring at nothing. It was unnerving, like being surrounded by living statues and giant rats.

When Loki had come here looking some frost giants to sneak into the Vaults he had happened upon four on a hunt almost instantly. It had been sheer blind luck for a plan he had only barely thought up, still seething with rage after all three of his family members had dismissed him over… something Loki could barely recall now. He had been in a foul temper and wanted to spoil the coronation and show everyone that Thor was not the perfect, golden son who never erred. Perhaps if he had not come upon the four, he would have retreated from Jötunheim and thought of a plan that wouldn’t get so out of hand. Instead he came upon three Jötun carrying spears and bows and had instantly locked onto them as the solution to his problem. It had been absurdly easy to get their attention, he had not even needed to reveal himself, he had just cast an illusion over the portal he was slowly forming, revealing the Casket of Ancient Winters. It had mostly been to see what they would do, he would have made up more of his plan after. However the frost giants had all stopped and stared at the illusion for hours without blinking. It had been a surreal moment when Loki realised he didn’t need more than that. They were all twitching and reaching for the Casket like hungry animals. It had been disgusting, but useful.

All Loki had to do was make the image grow clearer and stronger right up until the day of the coronation, and then open the portal to let them in. Only three actually went through, Loki reasoned that the fourth had gone back to Laufey to report to him, which is how Laufey knew why they were there.

The ease with which the plan had come together meant that Loki had spent almost no time on Jötunheim before, and he had been too nervous about Heimdall _actually letting them go_ to pay any attention to the city, so it was only now he found himself noticing the actual state of the city. Not just a clumsy mess of barbarians, but there seemed to be hints of technology similar to that of Asgard’s or maybe Midgard’s, and once beautiful architecture. It was almost as if this city had once been as glorious as Idavoll, Asgard’s capital, which Loki could not believe was possible for a race of monsters. He would have to read his book on Jötunheim again.       

Loki spotted Laufey finally, deep in the cavernous, broken city, speaking with some of his people.

“-gather the Storm Giants you can,” he was saying to the taller frost giant. Loki snorted as he realised that Laufey was the smallest of giants. So what was so wrong with Loki that he had to be thrown away? Was there a height limit?

“Yes father,” said one of the frost giants and Loki felt his teeth clench as he realised that must be one of his brothers. His fingers curled into a fist, wanting to punch the creature, but the giant strode away before he could consider it further.

Laufey dismissed the giants around him and walked away. Loki realised he had just missed some rather important planning regarding the invasion of Asgard. He sighed and followed Laufey into a small cave tunnel. He followed him for a while until they emerged into an almost pitch black chamber. Loki checked to ensure they were alone, and then lit a flame in his hand, filling the chamber with light.

Laufey grunted and whirled around, hand growing ice around it in the form of a dagger. Loki undid the cloaking spell so he could be seen and smirked when Laufey paused in surprise. Then Laufey drew himself up and growled,

“I should kill you where you stand.”

“After all I’ve done for you?” Loki wondered, smirking as he stepped into the chamber and dimmed the flames in his hand. Laufey narrowed his red eyes at him and then he grinned a little,

“Ah… so you’re the one who led us into Asgard.”

Loki’s smirk widened, “That was just a bit of fun, really. To ruin my brother's big day, and to protect the realm from his idiotic rule a little longer.” Lie with the truth, it was much easier to convince someone that way.

Laufey considered Loki and the dagger of ice in his hand retracted, “I will hear you.”

Loki nodded, becoming serious, “I will conceal you and a handful of your soldiers, lead you into Odin's chambers, and you can slay him where he lies.”

Confusion and suspicion darkened Laufey’s eyes to almost black, “Why not kill him yourself?”

Loki rolled his eyes, surely it was obvious. “I suspect that the Asgardians would not take kindly to a king who had murdered his predecessor. Once Odin is dead, I will return the Casket to you and you can return Jötunheim to all it’s, um, glories.”

Now Loki had Laufey’s attention. The unmistakeable look of hunger on his face told of a deep longing for the Casket. It told Loki that as long as he dangled the Casket before Laufey, he would not think to question Loki’s instructions. Just like the four who invaded the Vault. It was something Loki would have to consider later, perhaps it would be useful.

“What would you wish for in return?” Laufey wondered, tilting his head. As much as he tried, Loki could not help but look at the frost giant’s face and try to see if there was any similarities between them. Any feature they shared, as father and son, but there was nothing, and that was perfect as far as Loki was concerned.

“You will cease your plans to launch an attack upon Asgard, there will be no war, and in time you will come to the table to discuss a better suited peace for all the realms.”

“What more?” Laufey asked, sounding very dubious.

“Nothing more, save you have some common sense and do not speak of this to anyone else. If Heimdall hears you, and you know I have him watching you because I can do nothing less, this will all be for nothing.”

Laufey considered this, and finally, he hissed, “I accept.”

“Excellent,” Loki smirked and stepped back, lowering the flames even more, “Now, I will open the portal here and I will guide you to Odin, but do not expect to see me. I will be elsewhere, keeping the court busy, do you understand?”

“When?”

“In the morning, Asgard is slow to rise, especially after a huge feast like we have just had. You’ll be unnoticed, even without my cloaking spell. Just wait until I open the portal and follow the illusion I send you.” Loki twitched his other hand and a butterfly made of green light appeared. “This will take you to Odin. Only cross the portal when this appears, do you understand?”

Laufey nodded, “It would seem the second prince is just as underhanded as everyone says.”

“Oh… I am so much more than that,” Loki promised him with a razor sharp smile. “Do not fail this task, or you will never get your hands upon the Casket, and nor will your sons or any other Jötun that ever lives.”

Laufey nodded in understanding. Loki gave a mocking bow to him and then strode out, reminding himself time and again that this was the only way to stop war.


	14. No Going Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki puts himself on a single path that he will not be able to turn from.

Loki did not sleep that night, he had not the time as he perused the historic documents in the King’s State Chambers. He pulled out treaties and declarations of war, between Asgard and other realms, all the way back to the war between the Aesir and the Vanir. That had been back in Bor’s time. He skimmed through laws and plans and everything in between. At one point he found himself wondering if someone had remembered to go feed Thor’s beloved goats. Thor usually did that himself. The blasted animals had better not starve!

He knew that once Laufey was out of the way he would have to move swiftly to get Jötunheim under his control. He knew calling in Vanaheim and Alfheim to stand with him was a way of mustering strength against whichever son would assume control. That was, if Loki’s plan did not go the way he expected, and all things considered, there was a lot that could go wrong today. What if someone saw Laufey before he got to Odin’s chamber? What if Laufey revealed Loki’s involvement before Loki could deal with him? What if –Norns help him! –Odin woke up today and it was all for nothing?

Loki had no idea what his father could see and hear that deep in Odinsleep, but he rather suspected Odin would figure out how Laufey got in without much thought. And then what would he do with Loki? Loki shook his head at the thought, No, his plan would work, and he would prove himself Odinson. He would eradicate that which had made him unworthy to be Aesir, that which made him scum. He would eradicate it, and cleanse himself in the act. 

Rubbing at his brow, Loki realised he needed some way to cover up the cause of the portal. Something that would go over the heads of most people, and would satisfy those that knew enough about these matters to catch a lie. Maybe he could just say that Laufey had made the portals, after all, he doubted anyone knew anything about Jötnar seiðr. The only magical device Loki had ever heard of in all his life from Jötunheim was the Casket of Ancient Winters. He doubted anyone knew much about that thing either. Perhaps that would suffice. A simple hand wave of ‘Jötun magic did it.’

Loki growled as he realised he needed to write letters to Asgard’s allies to inform them of his ascension. He had to write to King Njordr and Queen Skadi and Queen Aetril to assure them he would uphold the same friendship as his father, and then pass on the information to Svartálfaheim and Nidavellir, reasserting the same claims and intentions of Odin. At least until he had a better handle on his own damned court. He had better luck bonding with a toddler than any of the old fools who helped him run this court.

Maybe that was the problem. Loki dropped into a seat, rubbed at his face and then started to write letters to King Njordr and Queen Aetril. The men he was dealing with were all older than water itself, and had all known Loki since he had been incapable of controlling his own bowel movements and thought his greatest pleasure was chewing on his own toes. Only Kvasir had ever taken him seriously. Loki had always planned to prove them all fools in comparison to him when Thor eventually became king and he became Thor’s advisor. So much for that plan. Being so old made the men stubborn, and set in their ways. Loki needed younger men to work with, people who would not be so obstinate. Kvasir had mentioned his son last night, maybe he would be useful. Sverrir had been in many of Loki’s classes, he was intelligent and shrewd, with a healthy respect for seiðr thanks to Kvasir.

As Loki wrote the letters, a familiar sound made him look up and then rush to the balcony. His eyes widened as the Bifrost activated. At the same moment, he felt a tug that made him automatically pluck the letter out of the subspace. Sigyn’s writing was rushed, but clear.

_‘Heimdall is on your side. I have clarified to him that he will be loyal to you as his king, and as my husband. I have had him remove the Warriors Three and Lady Sif from Asgard for the moment. They are going to Midgard. Heimdall shall address the court about this being freely done. It will be accepted from his lips.’_

Loki read the letter three times to be sure he understood it right, and then he crushed it into his fist. He grabbed a strip of parchment and wrote with sharp movements,

_‘You had no right! This is my realm, not yours. Not yet. And I had not fully decided to send them away. Do not do that again!’_

He sent it away, trembling slightly with anger and shock. He had wanted the Warriors Three in Asgard when Laufey arrived, so they could see Loki save Odin. That would have won them over, surely. Loki made it clear in his own head that he had only wanted to win them over for their usefulness. He was long past the childish need for approval from his brother’s friends.

Loki could not deny, however, that a knot in his chest was easing now that those four were out of his hair. Granted he had no idea what they would whisper into Thor’s ear, but while Loki could not claim to be fond of Thor’s mind, he knew Thor’s heart was good. So long as Thor never found out about Loki being a Jötun, he doubted his idiot brother would turn on him.

A letter came back from Sigyn.

_‘Tough. I am your wife, and I did what I thought was best for you. Focus on Laufey, not the Idiots Four. You can recall them whenever you want, but for now they are out of your way. We’re to be rulers, together, over two realms. You must trust my judgement as I do yours. Be grateful I can ensure Heimdall is on your side. Now deal with Laufey and stop this war.’_

Loki growled, but conceded she had a point about Heimdall at the very least. And it would be good to be free of them for a while. He did not reply, instead finishing his correspondence to King Njordr and Queen Skadi, and Queen Aetril. He paused for a moment, then wrote a second pair of letters, which he attached to the back of the letters. Hoping his second request would not be seen as too much change too soon, he flicked his fingers so the papers rolled up and sealed themselves with the magical seal of the king. He set them aside to be sent, and resumed his reading, until the sun rose over the horizon and he quickly washed and dressed himself with magic before heading to the Throne Room. There would be no petitioners –thankfully –but Loki had to call the court to duty and he was sure Heimdall would be making an appearance.

Geri and Freki could smell Jötunheim on him, and growled in distaste, but Loki ordered them to follow, and follow they did. As he walked into the Throne Room, he twitched his fingers and opened the portal between Jötunheim and Asgard. As he ascended the stairs, he sent his butterfly messenger for Laufey to follow. He sat down on the throne and called the court to order, declaring that the Lendmenn were to see to issues that were cropping up in the palace’s running without Odin, servants who found themselves idle and the like. As he finished issuing these orders, the doors of the throne room opened and Heimdall came striding in.

The tension in the room shot up as everyone looked at Heimdall with alarm. Rarely did Heimdall leave his station. His sword was strapped to his back and his hands were clasped in front of him as he strode towards the throne. He cut an imposing figure as he knelt before Loki, fist over heart.

“My king,” he uttered. Loki prayed he could not see Laufey entering the Palace, just near Odin’s bedchambers. He spoke to Heimdall as he also caused a loud distraction for the hung-over guards to attend to, clearing the corridor for Laufey to walk in. 

“Good Heimdall, what brings you from the Bifrost?”

Heimdall lifted his eyes and met Loki’s without blinking. “I come with news that may cause distress to this court. It regards the Warriors Three and Lady Sif.”

Loki cocked his head to the side, while in his chest his heart was pounding. “What of them? Have they come to some sort of harm?”

It was so clear that Heimdall could barely get the next words out, it would have been funny at one time, “They have chosen to go into exile to be with Prince Thor.”

Tyr let out a shout of rage and the whole room filled with alarmed chatter which Loki allowed to go on for a moment before rising to his feet and banging Gungnir to bring silence.

“It is unwelcome news, but not surprising. Their loyalty is admirable in its strength, yet it has always been to Thor above all others. They know not how to function without him. Yet should they return with Thor, they will have to face accusations of desertion and treason.”

He let these words flow across the court, allowing them to sink in. He sat down on the throne again, opening his gaze to Laufey who was sneaking into the bedchambers of Odin like a shadow.

“This is a loss like Thor, there is always a chance they will-” Loki cut himself off as he watched the lone guard at Odin’s bedside was knocked aside with an icy fist. His eyes widened and he leapt to his feet.

“Loki?” His mother’s voice was far away, because his mind was in that room. Loki dropped Gungnir as he started to shake. No, no this was a mistake, he should have waited! This was a terrible idea, his father was-

“Frost Giants! Father!” he blurted, and then he closed his eyes and hauled himself into the magical subspace, throwing himself out again when he found Odin’s bedchambers. In his haste he had left Gungnir behind. He rushed inside, ignoring the frost all over the floor and walls. He reached out and used his seiðr to crush the windpipes of the two Jötnar that had come with Laufey, muffling their bodies falling as he approached the bed.

Laufey was straddling Odin on the bed, a huge, craggy, naked blue monster looming over the prone form of the All-Father. Loki’s breath caught in his chest as he stared at the monster, horrified at the idea that he had come from this thing. Laufey’s voice, soft, hoarse like fresh snow being crushed underfoot, filled the room.

“It's said you can still hear and see what transpires around you. I hope it's true, so that you may know your death came at the hand of Laufey.”

Loki watched as Laufey conjured an ice knife in his hand and raised it up. No! Not his father!

Loki let out a roar of fury and threw his hands out, vines of shadows shooting from his fingertips. Like whips they curled around Laufey’s neck, arms, wrists, ankles. Loki gave an almighty pull and dragged the stunned Frost Giant off Odin, slamming him into a wall.

“And your death came by the son of Odin,” he hissed. He could hear the guards coming, knew time was short, but he still had to show Laufey what he was not. “That is what I am! I am Odinson!”

Laufey groaned and tried to rise, but Loki used the air around him to force him into the wall, pinned like a butterfly. Loki prowled towards him, hatred for this thing, for the monster that spawned him and denied him the right to be truly Asgardian.

“You should have made sure I was dead before you left me in that temple,” he hissed, pulling his favourite dagger from his gauntlet and slamming it into Laufey’s gut. Laufey let out a gasp of pain, but his red eyes locked on Loki’s and there was something there that made Loki pause. He could feel his skin changing colour, but he could not move away. Laufey’s eyes roamed over his face carefully, and a strange look of shock appeared on his face.

“You…” he murmured.

Loki glared at him, refusing to back down now. He dragged the dagger back out of his body, and slammed it in again, right through his heart. Laufey let out a wet gasp and blood sprayed from his mouth, hitting Loki in the face. Loki let out a noise of shock. The blood was red.

Laufey was struggling to stay alive, staring at Loki with that same expression of awe, something appearing in his eyes that Loki was sure he should not be able to feel.

Laufey lifted a shaking hand and he touched Loki’s face with a single, huge finger. Loki could not move away. Laufey inhaled one final time, forcing his lungs to open so he could speak,

“I… you look just like your mother.”

The words were like a bolt of lightning inside Loki and he reared back, pulling the dagger out with him. Laufey sagged down the wall and collapsed in a heap, dead. Loki stared down at the body of Laufey, and was not aware he was backing up until his heels hit the edge of Odin’s bed. He stumbled and landed on the bed, the dagger falling to the floor. His looked at his blood stained –red blood! –hands, they were trembling. He could hear the guards running into the room, hear his mother calling his name as she rushed down the corridor to him, but it all seemed far away.

He twisted to look at Odin, asleep, oblivious to what was going on around him.

“… I am your son,” he murmured to the prone form. “I am your son. I am.”

Frigga was at his side, Kvasir at the other, both of them speaking to him, but Loki could not hear them. He just kept repeating the same mantra in his head, over and over.

_I am your son. I am. I am your son. I am._


	15. The Kings of Asgard and Jotunheim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Laufey dead, Loki must now face his half-brother Helblindi and salvage the peace between the two worlds.

In the deathly silence of Odin’s Sleeping Chamber, Frigga could feel Loki trembling in her arms as she held him, while Kvasir wiped at his hands, cleaning away the blood, Laufey’s blood. Shock and horror filled Frigga as she pressed her brow to Loki’s temple, sensing the pain inside her son as he stared, unblinking, at the body of Laufey, which none of the guards wanted to touch.

“My King… Loki?” Kvasir called gently, trying to coax Loki back to them.

“My boy… my son,” Frigga called.

Loki stirred and then blinked hard, his trembling hands curling into fists and he looked at Frigga with blazing eyes. Frigga’s breath caught in her throat.

“Son? I am Odinson, I am,” he said carefully, in a hushed voice meant only for her. Frigga’s heart broke a little and she nodded, pushing some of his hair back –when he had teleported away, his helmet had been left behind, clanging to the ground with a resounding bang that had sent chills down the court. Now his hair was a dishevelled mess.

“Of course you are.”

Loki trembled a little, then looked at Laufey, swallowing hard and his lip curling in disgust. “He tried to kill father.”

“I know. But you stopped him.”

“I did,” Loki nodded. Frigga could read his expression. Loki was thinking, quick and hard. Whatever his emotions about Laufey, he was setting them aside for now. “We need to move quickly.”

He got to his feet and barked at the guards to get out of his way. With a snap of his fingers Laufey’s body stretched out and was wrapped in a black shroud, as were the two Jötnar he had brought with him. Loki waved his hand and they vanished.

“They are in the morgue,” he said to Kvasir. “To await return to Jötunheim.”

“Return to Jötunheim?”

Frigga grimaced as she heard Tyr’s voice bark across the room. “You would send the bodies back to Jötunheim? After what they just attempted?”

“Do not question me Tyr!” Loki snarled, and suddenly he seemed to loom over Tyr and the whole room seemed to darken with the rage on Loki’s face. Tyr wisely backed down. Loki relaxed back and then tilted his head back, “Heimdall! Bring the heir of Laufey to me! I would have words with him.”

“More Frost Giants in Asgard!”

“I would rather them here at my command than sneaking around in portals that cannot be found!” Loki hissed. There was blood on his face and Frigga wanted nothing more than to pull him into her arms and wipe it away. “Assemble a group of einherjar to stand in Gladsheim, ready for battle. Just to make a good impression.”

“What do you intend to do?” Kvasir asked carefully. Loki looked at him and smirked,

“I will ascertain if this was an action of a king, or a bitter old man. It will decide Jötunheim’s fate once and for all.”

Shivers ran down Frigga’s back at the cold tone of her son.

No one dared ask him what he meant.

**~*~**

Loki went into his bed chambers and washed away Laufey’s blood by hand. He watched as the water turned pink and tried to understand. Frost Giant blood was meant to be blue. That was what Loki had always been told as a child. But Laufey’s blood was red. Red as his eyes which had held some emotion Loki was certain monsters could not feel.

He looked into his mirror as he wiped away the blood from his face. As he folded the washcloth and set it down, he looked up at himself again and froze.

_“You look just like your mother.”_

Those were Laufey’s last words… and they were impossible. Loki looked nothing like a Frost Giant. It was probably just a cruel jab at him to confuse him. Yes, that’s all it was. A sick lie.

He wiped his face a final time and thought quickly about his next move. He had faltered, panicked about letting Laufey inside, about killing him, about whether this was really the best way to go about putting down the war. Yet when he had seen Laufey all set to kill Odin, it had ceased to matter. Now, there was no going back. He had to push on and hope that he could deal with whomever took over for Laufey. He had to play the outraged son and king now.

He redressed and found Kvasir waiting outside for him with his son, Sverrir, at his side. They both bowed to him. Sverrir was the same age as Loki; he was tall, with red hair that he constantly flicked out of his eyes, with a lazy confidence about him. Sverrir had been a schoolmate of Loki’s and a friend, one of the few Loki really counted by that title. They had played together, studied seiðr together. They had been close, until Loki had gone off on his own to look for an adventure and found Angrboda instead.  After that, they had never been as close.

“Your majesty, Heimdall sent word that Helblindi Laufeyson is on his way.”

“Good.”

Kvasir’s shrewd eyes looked him over carefully, “Are you well your majesty? You were very shaken in Odin’s chambers.”

Loki nodded, “I am fine. I just… was not expecting to feel such fear for my father. He has always seemed untouchable, but then…”

“Understandable,” Sverrir said quietly. “Odin had long been strong when we were born, and has been unassailable since. The idea that Laufey came so close sends my stomach turning.”

Loki looked at him sharply, and saw nothing but sincerity, so he nodded and gave a weak smile. “Exactly.”

Kvasir seemed satisfied with that, and reached out, placing a hand on Sverrir’s shoulder, “I spoke with Sverrir about watching the Warriors Three and Lady Sif, but it would seem that is now unnecessary.”

“It’s been a while my king,” Sverrir said with a faint smile. Loki found himself relaxing at the sight of his old school mate.

“It has. That’s what happens when you spend all your days chasing after a brother who thinks going on half-cocked adventures is a good thing.”

Sverrir chuckled, “Occasionally it has its merits.”

Loki conceded the statement with a nod, then gestured for the two to follow him. They did so, Kvasir clearing his throat,

“What do you intend to do with Helblindi?”

“I intend to make a deal,” said Loki.

“A deal? After what Laufey attempted?” Sverrir asked in a soft voice, “People won’t like that.”

“I still want to avoid war,” Loki said, coming to a stop and looking at the two, “And Laufey’s stupidity has provided me with such a possibility. Now Asgard has the upper hand.”

“Ah… before we were owing them restitution for Prince Thor’s actions. Now they owe us for their king attempting on the life of ours,” Sverrir sighed, chewing on his thumbnail as he always had when he was thinking hard. “You can force them to abandon the war.”

Loki smiled at him, “Exactly!”

Sverrir grinned around his thumb.

Kvasir looked less certain, “Thor made a terrible mistake, but Laufey’s actions do not cancel his out.”

Loki nodded, “I know, but I have a plan.”

Kvasir paled and Loki distinctly heard him muttering under his breath as he followed them, “Oh good, he has a _plan_.”

The throne room had been cleared of all non-essential persons, so all the women were gone, save for Frigga who gave him a worried look. The lendmenn and einherjar stood in lines at the foot of the dais, weapons hanging from Tyr, Forseti and Delling’s sides. The wolves stood at the throne, waiting for him, while the ravens perched on the back of the throne. He sat down, his expression tense, the rage blazing from his eyes. He knew he had to look like this, but it was not hard to fake. He was angry, trembling slightly at those damn final words of Laufey’s.

_“You look just like your mother.”_

Abjörn appeared from seemingly nowhere and knelt before Loki, “Your majesty, Helblindi Laufeyson is here.”

“Bring him in!” Loki barked. Everyone jumped, and Frigga looked around at him with concern. Loki’s focus was on the Frost Giant entering the Throne Room. Helblindi was taller than Laufey had been, and he was younger, looking less craggy and chipped than his father. He was alone, leaving a trail of frosted footprints behind him. Loki should have stayed sitting, but he could not, he had to stand for this. His eyes locked with Helblindi’s and they stared at each other, matching fire and rage. Then, slowly, Helblindi bent the knee to Loki, but only because he had to. There was no respect between them, nothing but hatred. Good.

“King Loki. I am Helblindi Laufeyson.”

“And you are his heir?” Loki asked, having no idea how Jötnar succession worked.

“I am.”

“Good, I have no interest in speaking with anyone else.” Loki leaned forward, growling, “Your father made attempt on the life of mine, on Odin All-Father! Give me one good reason why I should not demand repayment in blood.”

“Because mine may have attempted to take All-Father’s life, but you did take my father’s life!” Helblindi growled. “You have no right to demand a blood payment for a life that was not lost.”

“You speak to me of rights?” Loki demanded. “What do your people know of rights?”

“I know my father held back upon his most sacred of rights, to uphold the so-called peace, to demand repayment for what your father took.”

“The Casket,” Loki sneered.

Helblindi rose to his feet, a severe mark of disrespect, but Loki waved away the einherjar who grabbed for their swords.

“I speak not of the Casket, but something far more precious to my father, which your father sent to a place Laufey could not follow.”

“And what care should I have of that? It does not change your father’s actions in my house today.”

“If you knew what Odin did that day-”

“I did not summon you here to play a childish blame game,” Loki snapped, “I don’t care about the past, not when the future could be very unpleasant for both of us.” Stepping down to the first dais, Loki sneered down at Helblindi. “It would be most unfortunate for your realm if you were to go to war with Asgard. Last time you had the Casket in your possession, and you lost bitterly. Imagine the damage we could do now.”

Helblindi matched his sneer with one of his own. “So why don’t you declare yourself? If we are so weak, and you so strong, make your move.”

The tension in the room mounted, everyone was on edge, except for Loki. Instead, Loki laughed.

Helblindi frowned, and the advisors looked at him worriedly as Loki all but giggled, the laughter building and building through the room until it echoed against the walls. Helblindi started to look uneasy, and the lendmenn seemed more concerned. Then Loki cut off his laughter and slammed Gungnir into the floor with an almighty bang.

“DO YOU TAKE ME FOR A FOOL?” he bellowed, making everyone jump and Helblindi took a step back. Loki grinned viciously, “Do you think I would be stupid enough to declare war on you? I might be within my rights to do so after what Laufey did, but I know that it would look terrible for Asgard to wage war on such a weakened realm as Jötunheim. You think to play me Helblindi Laufeyson?”

Helblindi regarded him with shrewd eyes, so unlike the angry, bitter ones of Laufey. Finally Helblindi spoke in a low voice,

“I’m trying to. You do not make it easy.”

Loki blinked, not sure he heard him right. When Helblindi did not say anything else, Loki snorted with amusement, and begrudging admiration for the sheer arrogance of that reply.

“A fair attempt.”

Now the advisors were really looking at him with worry. Loki ignored them and leaned forward, “Now… what shall we do about this mess?” It sounded almost like a threat. He wanted to make it clear which of them held the true power here.

Helblindi tilted his head, “I suppose whatever the King of Asgard commands. My people have little say in it.”

“And if I say I want every Jötun chained and collared like thralls into service?” Loki challenged.

Helblindi lifted his chin, “We have little say, but great pride. Such actions would not be done easily.”

“Pride is very valuable, when it is all you have in this universe.”

They glared at each other. For all their word play and facades of calm, that was all they were, play and facades. They were still two enraged men, bitterly wounded and more than willing to tear each other apart. Except Loki would not allow that. It would be giving in to the monstrosity inside himself, and it would be a nightmare to handle. Asgard was not ready for war, it had gotten fat on its own arrogance, every man with a sword would rush in hoping to be worthy of a song or two. Jötunheim was equally at a disadvantage. They were full of rage, full of hatred for the humiliation they had suffered at the hands of Asgard. But they were as likely to destroy themselves through that anger as Asgard.

“What would you have?” Helblindi asked. Loki was reminded, oddly, of Heimdall when he spoke. Neither of them moved their mouths much when they spoke, and they spoke in a strange, almost detached manner. Heimdall’s power had slowed him down in many ways, to open him to the universe. Loki wondered if ice, which was the most erosive of natural forces, but also the slowest, made the frost giant slow too. “Would you have a score of Jötnar babes to smash against a wall?”

Frigga recoiled at the suggestion, but the question made Loki frown. There was a personal anger in that question, not just a hate-fill mockery.

“What would make you think I would ask such a thing?”

“We know what you Asgardians are really like,” Helblindi uttered.

“Foul beast!” Tyr snarled, drawing his sword.

“Tyr, stay your hand or see it parted from your body!” Loki snapped, throwing a furious look at the idiot before looking back at Helblindi. He caught the red gaze of the Jötun and forced them to look straight into each other’s eyes. He studied as best he could the worth of the man –well, giant. Finally he stepped forward, placing a foot on the next step, and he said carefully,

“This is what will happen. Let us not dither about the point. You have no more stomach for a real war than I. You’ll do it, as will I, if pressed, but the truth is we’re both too smart to think it would be anything other than empty.”

Helblindi nodded warily. Loki gave a tense smirk. “So, you will declare that your father’s attack upon mine has cancelled out any entitlement you had to recompense after Prince Thor’s actions four days ago.”

“He murdered many of my people,” Helblindi growled.

“And Laufey attempted to murder someone who mattered,” Loki said without emotion. He waved his hand and the three shrouded bodied of Laufey and the other two Frost Giants appeared. “You may take Laufey home, deal with his body according to your customs. Asgardian traditions would have it that such a criminal as he would be strung up as a warning. Yet I feel that you would not take kindly to such treatment.”

Helblindi’s lip curled and he growled, the sound echoing almost as much as Loki’s earlier laughter. Loki turned his back to Helblindi and returned to the throne.

“Take your father home Laufeyson. Deal with him as you see fit.”

“And the repayment of such ‘kindness’?” Helblindi asked.

Loki sat down and spread a hand languidly.

“You and I are kings now. Let us make sure we have learned from the triumphs and mistakes of our fathers. The repayment will be your assurance that war will not happen, with the oath sworn right now. And to ensure that, I would have you or one of your advisors, come to me annually to swear oaths of peace. And when Odin awakens, you shall continue to swear these oaths to him. And of course, if Prince Thor returns before Odin wakes, you shall swear to him.”

“And what would the Frost Giants gain from such oaths?”

Loki considered what he could offer in return. Then he smirked,

“Well, what if I offered you something you thought you could never have again.”

Heads snapped around to him in alarm as one. Good, they knew what he meant.

“The Casket,” Helblindi breathed. Loki snorted softly and leaned forward,

“Not exactly. Perhaps a shard of it. Enough to return you to some semblance of dignity.”

“My king…” growled Tyr, stepping forward, but stopping when Loki shot him a look of such warning he knew better than to speak again.

Helblindi’s eyes were gleaming with hunger. “What do you know of the Casket?”

“Enough to imagine that the seiðr within the Casket itself is very brittle, and needs the Casket to contain it.” Loki grinned like a wolf, “Seiðr is very complicated, isn’t it? But I think even a shard of the Casket would be enough to allow you to begin to rebuild. Think of it as a way to repair the damage my brother did to your land –it was typically extensive.”

“If I agreed to this, when would we receive it?” Helblindi asked.

“I will need to spend some time studying it, to determine the best way to give you a shard of it. After all, it would not do for me to hold it out only for it to dissipate in moments.” Loki waved a hand and conjured an illusion of the Casket to hover above his fingertips, just to see what Helblindi would do.

The look that crossed the Frost Giant’s face for a split second was not unlike how Loki had reacted the first time he had seen Sigyn naked. Hungry, awed, and a little bit afraid. Even more interesting was the way Kvasir and Frigga jumped in alarm. They really thought he was that stupid? As if he would bring the real thing out of the Weapons Vault.

“King Helblindi, kneel to me now, swear an oath of peace, on behalf of yourself and your people, your realm, and I will see to it that, provided I hear no murmurings of unrest from Jötunheim, you will get a shard of the Casket on this day next year. I will swear this oath to you as you swear yours to me, binding us both as new kings of our realms to this shared future.”

Helblindi did not move for a very long moment, during which Loki wondered if he was really stupid enough to turn this down. Then, with a creak like a glacier scraping rock, Helblindi knelt down before Loki and pressed his flat hand over his chest, over his heart. Jötnar had hearts, Loki knew this from Angrboda, but the thought still surprised him when it came to the Frost Jötnar.

Helblindi inhaled deeply, his red eyes measuring Loki as shrewdly as Loki had him, and then spoke in a deep, carrying voice.

“I, Helblindi Laufeyson, King of the Hrímþursar, do swear to forge and maintain peace between my kind and Asgard. This I swear to Loki Odinson, King of Asgard.”

Loki rose to his feet and pressed his clenched fist over his own heart, and forced his voice to remain steady.

“I, Loki Odinson, King of the Aesir and Asgard, do swear to provide the… Hrímþursar,” he gave the strange word a try, “With a shard of the Casket of Ancient Winters, on this day a year hence, with the understanding that any indications that this peace between our peoples is being threatened by them, will result in no such presentation. This I swear to Helblindi Laufeyson, King of the Hrímþursar.”

A swirl of green and blue seiðr flared from their hearts and Loki hid a wince as the oath took hold. Helblindi grimaced slightly, the only sign of his own discomfort. There was no going back now.

The oaths sworn, Loki said,

“I will teleport you to Heimdall, so that you may take your father to be set on his way.”

Helblindi nodded, “I shall greet you once more in a year.”

Loki nodded in agreement, “Or sooner, depending on what I need to do to give you the shard. Do not be surprised if I pay you a visit.”

This clearly annoyed Helblindi, but he did not speak, only nodded once more. Loki waved his hand and sent Helblindi to Heimdall with the bodies.

“My king I must protest!” Tyr bellowed. Loki sighed and rubbed at his temple,

“Protest all you want Tyr. I will not change my mind, nor will I hear ravings about honour, glory, their monstrous nature or anything else.”

Tyr flushed crimson with frustration and held his tongue as Frigga rose to her feet. Loki groaned inside as he realised all his advisors would have protests and thoughts on this decision. Pre-emptively he flicked up a finger to silence them and said wearily,

“I know you all have opinions you are just dying to voice. But the oath is made, the deal is struck. So why don’t you all go and list your concerns and I will deal with them tomorrow. For now I am weary, comes from not sleeping for four days.”

Among other things.

“So I am going to bed. Do not disturb me unless Ragnarok itself comes to the door.”

“Yes my king.” They all uttered, bowing as Loki heaved himself to his feet and made his way out of the Throne Room. It was barely afternoon yet, the sun was at its peak, but Loki did not care. He had to sleep.

He shed his clothes and clambered into bed without preamble, falling into an exhausted sleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. 


	16. What My Folly Has Cost Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor's failure to retrieve Mjolnir leaves him grieving and alone, until four friendly faces appear in his window.

The stars on Midgard were faded and distant compared to the diamond clarity of Asgard’s. There was only one moon, brighter and larger than the three that hovered above Asgard. Thor stared at the large orb, barely seeing it as his mind continued to reel from the fact that he had been unable to lift Mjölnir. His hammer, the most perfect of weapons, had refused his touch.

Why?

Why would Odin place it so near him and yet out of his hand? It made no sense.

Jane’s breathing was soft as she slept next to him on her deck chair. It helped him feel a little better. Her excitement about the things he had told her had reminded him of Loki when he had learned new things, but for once, Thor had the pleasure of teaching these facts, instead of Loki excitedly telling him everything.

Actually, Thor frowned slightly in thought, he could not recall the last time Loki had run up to Thor brimming with excitement over some new fact he had learned. It must have been long ago. When had Loki stopped sharing things with him like that?

Thor sighed, resting his hands on his stomach as he stared up at the sky. The stars were so unfamiliar to him, reminding him all the more that he was very far from home. When they had been younger, Thor and Loki would climb to the highest point in the palace, and Loki would tell him the stories of each constellation. Thor had never been sure if he was making them up or not sometimes, because Loki had insisted there were more than one tale for some stars.

As he lay there, Thor realised something. He had said to Erik Selvig that for the first time in his life he had no idea what he was meant to do with himself. It was true, but Thor was starting to realise that ever since he had been unable to lift Mjölnir, he had been waiting for Loki to give him a solution. That was how it had worked for a long time. Thor would go on an adventure, and if he got stuck, Loki would solve the problem. Even as he realised it, Thor looked around for any sign that Loki was nearby. A black cat leapt across the gap between two buildings and his heart jumped, but the cat looked up at him and the eyes were yellow. Not Loki then. His brother always kept his eyes green when he was in another form, and he had taken many over the years.

When had Thor grown so dependent on his little brother? He certainly was not this reliant when they were younger. If anything he had done his best to be the brother Loki needed to look after him.

At the age of nineteen Loki had vanished and no one, not Heimdall, not Father’s ravens, not even Father himself could find him. For five years Loki had been missing. People had wondered, had worried, but for the first year Thor had been oblivious, travelling with Tyr and learning how to hunt big game. Thor could still recall the ice-cold fear that had spread through his body as he realised if Heimdall could not see Loki, he was probably in real danger. Thor had wanted to look for Loki, but Father refused, saying he could not risk his first born if he had lost his second. Father had taken it upon himself to find Loki. In his old guise of a grey clad traveller, Odin had travelled across Asgard, while Kvasir had cast spell after spell to find Loki. But there was nothing. Odin had returned empty handed and without plan. The palace had been very quiet without Loki’s pranks, without Loki’s laughter, without Loki’s voice caught up in a shouting match with Tyr about tactics, methods and honour. Thor had spent months searching for clues in Loki’s bedchambers, and spent the years Loki was missing trying to become the hero who could rescue him.

Then, almost five years to the day Odin had risen from his throne with a gasp. Without a word, he had left the palace, and disappeared for twelve days. He returned in the dead of night, and he had Loki with him. Thor had been asleep in bed at the time, so he had not known Loki was safe until that morning. He had run to the healing room, shouting Loki’s name, but he was not allowed to see his brother. He begged and pleaded and threw tantrums, but Odin refused to let him in, saying Loki was very ill and needed to be isolated until the illness was gone.

Another seven months went by with Loki hidden away in the palace. People would have doubted his return, if they had not heard shrieks emanating through the palace every now and then. Thor had been frantic, but denied access, he had turned to training even harder, until he could outdo every warrior he faced in the training arena.

Finally, almost six years after he had vanished, Loki had been right in front of Thor, almost bumping into him as they crossed paths on the corridor. Thor had nearly gone right by him before his brain registered who was standing there.

Thor would never forget that moment. Loki had been gaunt, thinner than he had ever been, and he had never been particularly broad before. He had been so frail looking Thor held back a hug, in case he broke him. Then Loki had looked at him and there had been a burning fire in his eyes. Whatever had happened, wherever he had been, Loki would not speak of it. No one knew what he had been doing except Odin and maybe Frigga. Rumours flew, especially when Loki started showing magical talents he had never had before, but nothing was confirmed or denied.

Loki had been so withdrawn then, whereas before he had been playful. Before, he and Thor would sing together in the feasting hall, usually some stupid and silly song about brothers fighting as one. After, he refused any invitation to sing or celebrate. Before he had been comfortable around women, learning to flirt with the maidens of the court, after he refused to engage with them. It had only made the rumours worse.

Thor had stuck to Loki’s side as best he could in the aftermath, trying to give his support, but Loki refused his company a lot in the beginning. He had eventually started to relent when Thor learned to give him breathing space, and gradually things had fallen into an easy pattern. Thor made sure Loki was safe, Loki grew exasperated, but never actually told Thor to stop. Loki had started training again, but he had no interest in fighting with Tyr about what was honourable and what was not, so he trained alone. Loki was alone far too often.

None of this had made Thor reliant on Loki though, that had come centuries later, well after Loki became a great sorcerer, with a knack for talking his way out of problems. Thor and his friends had been planning on going on an adventure. Loki had overheard where they were going and asked if he could accompany them, saying he was curious.

As it had turned out, none of them would have made it back if Loki had not been there.

Thor sighed quietly. He missed Loki. He wondered if his brother missed him half as much, or was maybe enjoying the peace without him. Unless Jötunheim had invaded Asgard. The thought made Thor sit up as he realised that a war could be happening and he was stuck down here, helpless and weak. People could be dying, his friends and family could be dying, all because of his actions. All because he had felt so slighted by his special day being ruined.

Thor burned with humiliation at his own stupidity and childishness. He had been so confident, even in the face of his father’s anger. Find Mjölnir and all would be well again, that had been his one thought. And yet that was not true. He was truly stuck here.

Tears filled his eyes and he looked up to the sky again, to the unfamiliar stars.

“Heimdall… I know I am banished… but could you ask father to let Loki see me, just so I can know if Asgard is safe? Just so I can apologise to father through him. Just so I can see my brother again.”

He got no answer, but he had expected none. Wiping away the tears, he lay back down and tried to sleep, his mortal form dragging him down far faster than his Aesir would have.

**~*~**

Thor chuckled to see Erik Selvig so haunted by their drinking last night. It reminded him of Fandral after the last time he had tried to out drink Loki. A foolish endeavour.

“Good morning my friend!”

Erik pressed a finger to his lips, indicating he wanted silence. Thor hid a grin as Jane started to prepare food. Since he had failed to return everything he had promised, Thor decided to help her.

“May I assist?”

Jane looked at him in surprise, “Uh, sure. Um, can you stick that bread in the toaster, that thing there? Just put a slice in each slot and pressed the black lever down.”

Thor did as she said, commenting, “I am afraid we shall be lucky if I do not fail to cook this bread. My friend Hogun and brother Loki were the ones who handled the food on our adventures.”

“You’ve a brother?” Darcy asked with a gleam in her eyes, “Is he as cute as you?”

“Darcy! Please, quiet!” Erik groaned, holding his head. Thor chuckled,

“We are not similar in looks, but I have heard many compliments paid to him. People think him exotic He is dark haired, with green eyes. But I would think you would find him shy of you Darcy.”

“He’s cute and shy? Oh come to mama,” Darcy grinned.

“Darcy…” Jane said in a slightly scandalised voice. Darcy fluttered her eyelashes at her innocently and turned to Thor again.

“I think you would all like my brother,” Thor said, turning to Jane, “He is intelligent, like you. If you were to ask him about your bridge, he would probably be able to give you more help than I. He knows much about seiðr, what we call magic, and science.”

“Well here’s hoping for a family visit.” Darcy said with a grin as the toast popped.

They ate at the small table, and Thor listened to Jane speak excitedly to Erik about what Thor had told her and what she had come up with from his words. When they were finished eating, Thor decided to clear up, since he had nothing else to do, while Erik paced thoughtfully around Darcy and Jane.

“It’s a beautiful theory Jane. But you’ll never get the scientific community to consider it, not without hard evidence. And I feel the need to state the obvious that we still don’t know if this guy is really who he says.”

“Erik we already talked about this last night!” Jane exclaimed.

“And I went along with it for the sake of peace, but I will not believe that this guy is a god, or an alien, not yet! For God’s sake he speaks English! He looks human, how can an alien look human, this isn’t Star Trek!”

“If they’ve been here before, maybe they learnt English,” said Darcy, “And isn’t there some sort of convergent evolution that let’s koala bears have the same fingerprints as humans? Maybe that’s why they look like us.”

Erik let out a noise of frustration as Thor realised belatedly that they might not realise he could hear them. Perhaps his hearing was superior to theirs.

“Erik I don’t have the answers to that, I’m not a biologist,” said Jane calmly, “And I have reservations too, but if there is a chance this leads to proof of aliens and the Einstein-Rosen Bridge, then we have to take the gamble!”

“S.H.I.E.L.D. took all our equipment, how are we meant to do anything?”

Jane brandished her notebook like a weapon, “We can start with theory and go from there. Erik we have nothing to lose. We can find the evidence if we just look.”

A loud knocking on the window made them all look around, Thor’s eyes lighting up.

“FOUND YOU!!” Volstagg cheered as he, Fandral, Hogun and Sif all beamed through the glass at him. Thor dropped his washing and ran to the door as the four rushed inside.

“My friends!” Thor embraced them all with pure joy. “Father sent you in place of Loki, did he?”

“Erm, Thor?” Jane prompted, eyeing the four nervously.

“Oh, forgive us. Lady Sif and the Warriors Three!” Volstagg introduced with a bow.

“Oh god, I need more Alka-Seltzer,” Erik groaned, turning and walking away.

“These are my friends, Sif, Fandral, Volstagg and Hogun. Friends, this is Lady Jane Foster, Lady Darcy and Sir Erik,” Thor said grinning from ear to ear. “It warms my heart to see you all. Tell me what has happened? Did father not wish Loki to come?”

The four looked at each other uncertainly, “What do you mean Thor?”

“I asked Heimdall to send word to Father, to send Loki to me so that I might know what has happened with Jötunheim. I assumed he sent you instead,” said Thor, grinning widely.

“Uh… not exactly,” Volstagg said slowly. They glanced at each other again and then Fandral stepped forward,

“Your father has fallen into the Odinsleep, but this time it is different. He has slept for three days already and… well your mother fears he will never awaken again.”

Thor stared at him, then shook his head, “No, that is impossible.”

“I’m so sorry Thor,” said Sif, resting her hand on Thor’s arm. Thor pulled away from her touch, shaking his head,

“You tell me Odin may never awaken? That he is all but lost to us? That is impossible. He is Odin!”

Everyone was looking at him helplessly and Thor forced himself to remember that he was a Prince of Asgard, and he should act as such. He swallowed and said,

“So… if father sleeps… then that must mean that Loki is king.”

His friends nodded, looking sombre.

“So Loki sent you.”

“No,” Fandral sighed, “We were summoned by Heimdall and advised that we should take voluntary exile to follow you, or he would tell Loki of the treasonous words we have been speaking of him.”

Thor rounded on him, “You have spoken treason against my brother?”

“Thor, we think Loki was the one who let the Jötnar into the Weapons Vault,” Sif said urgently.

“No, you think that!” Volstagg snapped, “I for one am not sure.”

“Like I said before, Loki’s always been one for mischief, but the idea that he would let Jötnar into the Weapons Vault, seems excessive,” Fandral said.

“Laufey said there were traitors in the House of Odin,” Hogun reminded them.

“Enough!” Thor snapped, “Loki is many things, but he is no traitor to our house. I will hear no more of this suggestion. Loki is my brother and he was your king, and you dared speak against him?”

“He is not fit to be king,” Sif argued.

“I don’t know, I think he has done a fine job so far,” Fandral said, folding his arms and shrugging, “He made good judgements with petitioners.”

“But he is afraid to go to war. Like a coward he is twisting and turning to avoid it.”

“Um… isn’t that a good thing?” Jane asked. The Asgardians looked at her, and she glanced at Darcy before shrugging, “On Earth, avoiding war is always preferred.”

“Not on Asgard, there is no greater thing than war,” Sif said with a proud smirk, hefting her shield, “Defending your lands and dying a warrior’s death so that songs will be sung of your deeds.”

Erik snorted behind them all, “Call me crazy, but I’d rather live out my days as long as I can, no song is worth my life.”

“Do you have no honour?” Volstagg asked in astonishment.

“I’ve plenty of honour thank you very much, I just prefer to show it in more… productive ways.” Erik was pouring over a book in his hands.

“It matters not anymore, we are here now, in exile with you Thor, where we belong,” Fandral declared, “Now, come, let us go hunting, and see what this land has to offer.”

Thor had to admit the idea was very tempting, but Jane shook her head, “Uh, no, you don’t –there’s no hunting around here.”

“Oh…” Fandral sagged, “Well, let us find an ale house and tell tales.”

“It’s nine thirty in the morning,” Darcy said with a raised eyebrow. Thor was beginning to feel embarrassed, which was a strange feeling. His new friends did not seem impressed by his old ones.

“Very well, come Thor, let us spar!”

“Ah Fandral, I would dearly love that, but I fear you would best me in moments, for I am just a mortal now. My full strength is denied to me.”

An awkward silence fell, clearly his friends had been expecting things to be the same in a different place, but Thor was quickly learning that things were not the same on Midgard, not any more. Guilt filled his chest, his friends had given up everything for him, only to find him sorely lacking.

“My friends, I am sorry, you have accepted exile for nothing,” he apologised.

“It does not matter,” Sif said, “Once we have established ourselves here, proven our strength and might, we will show these mortals how true warriors live.”

“No thanks, I’m quite happy as an astrophysicist. More to my strengths,” said Erik walking up to Jane and passing the book to her wordlessly. Jane glanced down and then frowned as she read something. Then she looked up at Thor and looked between him and Sif, looking confused.

“Is something wrong Jane?”

“Uh, no! No, no.” Jane flashed a false smile, pressing the open book to her chest. “So, uh, you’re Thor’s wife Sif?”

There was a moment of absolute silence. Then Fandral and Volstagg burst out laughing, while Thor coughed with embarrassment. Sif had gone ridged, staring at Jane with dark eyes. Hogun just looked between them all silently.

“Oh, that is a marvellous jest Lady Jane!” Fandral chortled, clapping Sif on the shoulder, “Could you imagine Sif?”

Sif smiled tightly and Thor shook his head,

“Sif and I are not married Jane. Why would you think so?”

“Oh, well, just we have this book full of stories about you and your people and it says you and Sif were married.” Jane held up the book, going red with embarrassment. Thor took the book and turned it around. There was a page about Sif, with a drawing of what the author assumed she looked like. It was not a good likeness.

“I know not what tales you have heard, but Sif and I have never been married.” Thor tried to sound as neutral as possible. His relationship with Sif had long been complicated and he did not wish to cause any more discomfort.

“Is the hair story true?” Darcy asked eagerly. “Did Loki cut it all off as a joke, and then give you a wig made of gold.”

“No, he changed it from golden to black and couldn’t change it back.” said Thor, hiding his smile at the memory. Sif had never forgiven Loki for it, mostly because when it had been done, Princess Sigyn, with whom Sif had had a very nasty fight the day before, had howled with laughter until she had wept, following Sif around until Sif had tried to strangle her, right in front of Odin. For her disrespect Odin had refused to fix her hair. Reminders of the incident were never welcome. They had only been young, Sif being seventeen, Sigyn and Loki being fifteen.

“Loki was always my favourite character in those stories,” said Erik with a fond smile.

“You’ve never met him.” said Hogun quietly. Thor gave him a sharp look and closed the book.

“So what now?” asked Darcy, “Are you guys gonna hop in your spaceship and take Thor home?”

“Alas fair lady, we cannot,” said Fandral, “We have been sent into exile by Heimdall, the guardian of Asgard. So we are… outlaws now.”

Thor winced to hear Fandral’s change of tone as he admitted his status.

Darcy raised an eyebrows, “So, you dress like Robin Hood and you’re an outlaw too? Do you steal from the rich and give to the poor?”

“Steal? Me? Never!” cried Fandral in outrage.

“Fandral is an honourable man, how dare you make such an accusation!” Volstagg barked.

“Hey back up!” snapped Erik. Thor threw his arm out between them and Erik’s eyes jumped to his face. “Thor, a word?”

Thor nodded and followed Erik into a corner, as the others stood in awkward silence.

Erik passed a hand over his mouth, “I thought we had a deal,” Erik growled, “I got you out of jail, and you were to leave town first thing. And yet, here you stand, and now you’ve brought friends?”

“Sir Erik, I swear I had every intention of leaving this morning, but Lady Jane insisted on sharing breakfast. I intended to leave after, and if you will it, I shall do so with my friends and you shall never see us again.” Thor found himself giving Erik his most sincere and hopeful expression. In truth, Thor wanted to stay, Jane and her friends had been very helpful and he liked them. He saw no reason why he could not stay.

Erik look from him to his friends, to Jane and Darcy. He sighed,

“Ah hell, you were never going anywhere, were you?”

Thor grinned, clapping Erik on the shoulder, nearly knocking him over, “Thank you my friend! You shall not regret this. You will never find truer warriors than I and my friends.”

Erik sighed, “Oh god, so,” he turned to Jane and Darcy, “We’re really buying this? Crazy Viking Space Aliens that fall from the sky?”

Jane and Darcy looked at each other, then Jane shrugged,

“Did you have any other plans this week?”

Erik threw up his hands, “Fine!”

Thor turned back to his friends, “What now my friends?”

“Well, I’ve got research to do… as best I can without all my equipment.” Jane picked up her notebook.

“Then we shall explore this village and see what it has to offer.” said Volstagg, clapping a hand on Thor’s shoulder. Thor smiled and nodded, very aware of Erik’s unimpressed expression, Darcy’s expression of disbelief, and Jane’s of discomfort.

As glad as he was to see his friends, he somehow knew that this was going to be difficult.


	17. Fresh Starts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki asserts his control with the Lendmenn and reconnects with an old friend as he starts to settle into his new role.

Someone was calling him.

“My king? My king? It is time to rise.”

Loki groaned and buried his head under his pillow, only to wake up completely as he realised he was in his bedchambers and someone was inside them without his permission.

He sat up like a shot and looked around. Abjörn, one of his father’s servants, was standing above him, smiling pleasantly. Loki stared at him for a moment, then growled,

“What are you doing in my bedchambers?”

Abjörn’s smile faltered a little, “My duty, your majesty. I am the king’s Chief Groom as well as the Royal Steward. It is my duty to see you risen and dressed for the day.”

Loki stared at him for a moment, then snapped, “Out! Get out!”

Abjörn looked alarmed and backed up. “But my king-”

“Out!” Loki snarled, “I am not a babe in arms that needs washing and dressing! Now out of my chambers!”

Abjörn all but fled the room, and Loki slammed the door after him. He fell against it panting heavily. Someone had been in his bedchambers without his permission. No one was allowed in his bed chambers without his permission!

Loki glanced down at his hands and saw they were trembling slightly. He swallowed and clenched them into fists. This needed to be dealt with at once.

**~*~**

“But Loki, Abjörn has served your father for centuries.” Frigga argued.

“I don’t care. I am not having anyone coming into my bedchambers to wake me and dress me like I’m a child.” Loki was trying to sound calm, but he was still furious. His chambers were the only place he had privacy, he would be damned if he had to give that up.

“That is not the point. It is a sign of status,” said Kvasir carefully.

“I sit on a throne of gold from which I can see the universe. I carry a staff of great magical power. I have loyal wolves and ravens full of ancient power, and I live in a palace made of gold. Just how many more symbols do you think I need?”

Sverrir, who was sitting at Loki’s left taking notes, snickered under his breath. Kvasir gave his son a sharp look, but Loki was glad someone appreciated his sarcasm. It was part of the reason Loki had invited him to the table today, to test his usefulness. He needed men of his own.

“You can’t just dismiss these servants, that would be cruel,” Frigga said.

“I won’t dismiss them, just reassign them. They will still hold the same status.”

“But nothing is higher than attending to the king.”

“I’ll think of something,” Loki said in a clipped tone, making it clear the subject was closed. “Next matter.”

“The king’s chambers, they are yours to claim now.”

Loki flicked his fingers, “No. Next matter.”

“Your majesty? As ruler, you are entitled to the chambers, you really ought to-”

“I said no. They are Odin’s chambers, and my mother’s, and they will remain so. If he were dead, maybe, but he is not.” Loki’s tone made it clear that the matter was closed. “Next matter.”

“The issue of Lady Sif and the Warriors Three’s desertion,” said Forseti, “They have committed treason and desertion. By law, if they return to Asgard, they must face trial for their crimes.”

“My niece is a loyal and honourable citizen,” said Tyr at once.

“She just deserted the realm in times of war,” said Hoder incredulously, “I’d hardly call that loyal.”

“You wouldn’t be so forgiving if it were anyone else,” added Bragi with a sneer. Tyr coloured high in his cheeks.

“Why did Heimdall allow them to pass?” he demanded, “Did the king not command the Bifrost sealed to all?”

Loki nodded, choosing to say nothing yet. He was still torn about Sigyn’s interference. On the one hand it had removed a thorn in his side, on the other it had left him with the task of deciding their fate.

“Is it any surprise that the four went running after Prince Thor? They hardly know how to function without him,” said Sverrir.

“That does not excuse their betrayal!” said Frigga viciously, catching Loki off guard. “They swore an oath and betrayed it.”

“Enough,” said Loki, lifting a hand, “As far as I am concerned, the Lady Sif and Warriors Three had committed treason and desertion. Thus they are to be arrested as soon as they set foot in Asgard. Since it is likely they will only return with Thor, it shall be his duty, as king, to put them to trial.”

Let Thor have to make the hard choice if he so badly wanted to be king, Loki thought viciously, his friends betrayed his little brother, maybe now he’ll see that they are only after their own aggrandisement and self-indulgence.

“Until that day,” he continued, “I will not hear any pleas for them, nor will I tolerate the mention of their names. Their families will come to me and swear their fealty or suffer their own outlawing and reduction to niðing. As to Heimdall’s decision to let them pass, I will have words with him myself. Next matter.”

The tension in the room skyrocketed as everyone absorbed Loki’s words. Reducing the four warriors to niðing was as good as declaring them villains and enemies of Asgard, which meant they were not only without the protection of law as outlaws, but it was like painting a target on their heads for anyone who was inclined to harm them. However, no one dared speak against the declaration, because it was the king’s justice, law and right.

Loki wondered if the four realised what they had given up, what Heimdall and Sigyn had tricked them into. Well, if they ever returned, they would find out. Loki found himself wishing the day would come soon.

Kvasir cleared his throat and said, “We need to discuss this oath you have sworn with the Jötnar.” 

His vindictive thoughts derailed, Loki groaned, he really did not want to think about that now. He wanted to put as much time as he could between himself and yesterday as he could before facing this.

“Very well, who wants to go first?”

Tyr opened his mouth, but Kvasir cut across him, “I think you’ve perhaps jumped into something a little too fast, but I do think there is merit in your thought.”

Freyr shook his head, “The Jötnar cannot be trusted. They will go back on their word as soon as they can.”

“If they want the Casket they won’t,” Loki said quietly, “Did you not see the look in his eyes when I showed him a mere illusion of it? That hunger, that need… the frost giants crave the Casket, it makes them vulnerable to us because they will do whatever they have to for even a small part of it.”

“Which you swore to give them!” Tyr barked, “After what they attempted last night.”

“I told you I would avert war if I could, and I did,” Loki snapped, “I set aside personal grievance for the sake of everyone in Asgard, and you tell me that was wrong?”

“I tell you it makes you look weak! The Jötnar King broke into the palace, attempted to kill the All-Father and you let it slide like it did not matter!”

“I killed Laufey!” Loki snarled, “I stopped him and I killed him, the matter is closed now, or else we are going to continue down a path of slaughter that I shall not stand for.”

“A coward’s decision. What’s to stop Helblindi from subverting the oath he swore to you and attacking us?”

Loki was quiet for a moment, then grinned at Tyr. “You know what Tyr, you are right.”

Frigga closed her eyes, she knew that tone. Well, Loki had invited her to sit in on the council to lend him support, so she would just have to deal with it. Loki leaned back into his seat, which was set on a small dais.

“My eyes have been opened!” he said, smirking, “You’re absolutely right, let us gather every man from this realm and launch ourselves into Jötunheim, tear through it like a rapacious brute and send every single one of them to the afterlife! To Niflheim with the possibility that there might be Jötnar who have done nothing but try to live. Forget that they have children and those children will have the pleasure of watching their parents burn before they too are slaughtered. Let’s just do it! Let’s just get rid of them all, that’ll go down well with the Ljósálfar and the people of Vanaheim. It’ll prove to everyone that Asgard takes the actions of a few and makes it everyone’s fault.” Loki slammed his fist on the table, and bellowed at Tyr, “IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT TYR?”

“Loki…” Frigga touched his arm, but Loki pushed it off, sneering at Tyr,

“Answer me Tyr,” he whispered.

“My king,” Kvasir started, but Loki held up his hand, silencing him.

“Answer me,” he repeated, staring at Tyr. Tyr swallowed his words and looked away. Loki’s sneer grew. “And that is why I have no care for your words.”

There was tense silence, then Loki looked at Delling, “What do you have to say about it?”

“I must admit I am very wary. Long have we been at war with the Jötnar, the possibility of allying with them…” Delling shook his head in distaste.

“You are mistaking showing consideration for alliance,” Sverrir said.

“Sverrir, it’s not your place,” Kvasir warned.

“No,” Loki said quickly, “I would hear what he has to say.”

Sverrir gave him that lazy grin he remembered so well. “Thank you your majesty. I was saying that it makes sense for us to show kindness, even in a small way, to the Jötnar, because it puts us in a better light with our allies. It could also be a way to pacify the Jötnar.”

“They cannot be pacified,” Hoder said with a shake of his head.

“How in the world can you be sure?” Sverrir asked, “You raised us on the tales of the Jötnar being monstrous, but the fact of the matter is you also raised us on tales of the Ljósálfar being weak and careless and flighty and from what I’ve seen, they may be sensual and delightful, but Queen Aetril could probably battle Thor and hold out well.”

“The tales about the Ljósálfar are mere exaggerations,” said Bragi. Sverrir gestured wordlessly, as if Bragi had answered his point, but when none of the other advisors said anything he sighed and looked at Loki helplessly. Loki chuckled faintly and tapped his lips as Kvasir sighed,

“We understand your point my son, but the Jötnar are still very dangerous.”

“So is a wolf you mistreat,” said Loki with a smirk. “Perhaps if we showed a little kindness, we would find they are much easier to manage.”

Forseti snorted, “Kindness? Asgard has always been kind to the other realms. We have defended Midgard, put Vanaheim under our protection-”

Loki pinched the bridge of his nose, “Yes, and the last time I got a letter from Princess Sigyn, she told me if Thor and his friends continued to treat her realm like their personal brothel, she would make sure he never sired an heir. Excellent protection that.”

Frigga sighed at this news and Loki shrugged at her. Frigga shook her head, exasperation all over her face.

Sverrir arched a red eyebrow and scratched the back of his head, “Asgard likes playing the older sibling to the other realms, but considering Queen Aetril is more than twice your age your majesty, I sincerely doubt she’ll appreciate it. Nor will King Njordr, and as for Malekith of the Dark Elves and Andvari of the Dvergar…”

Loki dearly wanted to grin at him, but he kept his expression straight. “You speak the truth Sverrir.” He looked out at the advisors and decided to grab the Bilgesnipe by the antlers. “Gentlemen, I know things have been hard the past few days, and I have been very patient with your fears, your suspicions,” he looked at Tyr, “And your concerns.” He looked at Frigga and Kvasir. “But I am not going to play around anymore. Odin is gone, Thor is gone. I am king, and that means we cannot live as we once did. We sat above the other realms because Odin was wise, Odin was powerful, and Odin was old. Odin could run Asgard as he did because of these elements. Wisdom comes with age, and age is what I do not have. I cannot try to dominate the other realms through sheer power the way Odin could. Therefore we must seek new ways of dealing with the other realms. The ruling of Asgard need change very little, we shall deal with that as it comes, although I am confident that system is relatively stable.”

The men were silent, but Kvasir was smiling faintly, as were Frigga and Sverrir. Bragi, Freyr and Hoder were listening attentively and seemed thoughtful, while Tyr and Forseti were visibly unhappy.

Hoder hummed, his white eyes directed towards Loki as he spoke, “I think you have a point. We cannot expect you to be Odin, any more than we could expect that of Thor. A younger king is going to cause changes. We shall just have to adjust.”

“Asgard is still a force to be reckoned with, and I am a relative unknown subject,” Loki said, spreading a hand, “The other leaders will hear I killed Laufey, they will hear that I am king. They will want to take the measure of me. I have already written letters to King Njordr, Queen Skadi and Queen Aetril, and declared myself to Andvari and Malekith.” Loki clicked his fingers and summoned the letters, giving them to Sverrir, “Send these off to their destinations.”

“Yes my king.”

“In the meantime, Forseti, I think I assigned you a task in the letter room.”

“And I passed it on to the men-”

“I did not say to you to pass it on, I want you to do it,” Loki said shortly, “I want a lendmenn to do it. Or are you unhappy with obeying your king?”

Forseti turned a funny shade of puce but shook his head. “I will do as you say.”

“Good. You have an eye for detail Forseti, your ability to maintain the laws and glimpse through the façade of set rules, allows you to see things others would miss. If you find any flaws in the system, bring them to me, I will see if your thoughts match mine when I do my own inspection.”

There was more discussions, simple and dull, but they were all dealt with and Loki was able to end the meeting soon after.

“Sverrir,” he called as he made for the door, “Come with me.”

Sverrir obeyed, following him out of the King’s State Chambers. They walked side by side until they reached Loki’s chambers. Loki gestured with his head for Sverrir to follow.

“Are you sure my king? I won’t be upsetting you?”

Loki paused and looked at Sverrir, who grinned at him playfully, but without malice. Loki’s lip curved up on one side, and he huffed a chuckle.

“Come on. I need to get changed out of this formal attire. You can wait in my study.”

Loki quickly set his helmet aside and sent Gungnir back to the Weapons Vault.  

“May I speak freely my king?” Sverrir asked as Loki went into his bedchamber.

“If you speak loud enough for me to hear you in here,” Loki told him as he shed his jacket.

“I think you’re making enemies in Tyr and Forseti.”

Loki snorted as he threw his shirt away and pulled out a softer, more moveable shirt of pale yellow. “Oh, I never would have guessed.”

Sverrir’s chuckle carried into his bedchamber, “I know, but I would voice concerns about it. You may be king, but as you yourself said, you are new, and they are old. They have power bases.”

“And do you really think I have no idea about these?” Loki asked, changing his trousers, “I know everything –more or less.”

“Oh… that is a deeply terrifying thing for a king to say.”

Loki laughed, tying the laces on his boots and walking back out. Sverrir looked him over and said, “Am I to assume an invitation has been extended?”

“It’s been a long time since we sparred. And I am in the mood to exercise. Come and join me.” Loki started picking up his weapons, giving Sverrir a sly grin. Sverrir sighed but his eyes twinkled,

“As you wish my king. Give me a moment, and I shall meet you down in the training arena.”

Loki nodded, picking up his set of daggers, the ones Thor had given him for a naming day present, long past. They were perfect for throwing, and Loki loved them. He put them on his person, picked up his Bo-staff and headed out. His Bo-staff was something Sigyn had bought for him in Japan as a gift. He had cared for the wood and with a little seiðr, it had outlasted all expectations.

Sverrir met him in the training arena and grinned as he saw the Bo-staff in his hands. In his hands he held his own, which he had crafted to match Loki’s when Loki had brought his out to practise with.

“I am glad to see the years apart have not made you impossible to predict my king.”

Loki smiled. Now that he was standing here, he remembered all the time he had spent with Sverrir as his friend, among others. He had never had many, but the few friends he had had all slipped away from him when he started spending so much time with Thor on travels, and when he and Sigyn had started spending more time together, and Loki had started becoming more devious.

“Well, let’s see if you remember how to use that thing. Or has marriage made you soft?”

Sverrir grinned, “You heard about that?”

“Of course, I told you I know everything.” Loki set down the other weapons, and lifted his Bo-staff. “Besides-” He swung quick and Sverrir had to leap aside to avoid a hit, “Kvasir did not shut up for a month after the ceremony –which I was not invited to I noticed.”

Sverrir twirled his staff and brought it down, forcing Loki to defend himself. “In truth, few were invited. Only family. My wife is not a fan of crowds.”

“Hence why I have not seen her here yet then?” Loki threw him off and swung at his legs, knocking him to the ground. Sverrir groaned as he landed on his back.

“Exactly,” he coughed.

“And why I have not seen your two children, either,” Loki chuckled as he helped him rise to his feet.

“They are a little young for court politics. They are only ten and five.”

“Girl first, then a son, yes?”

“Indeed.” Sverrir span the Bo-staff rapidly and swung it at Loki’s side, but Loki dodged it. “My daughter is called Rind, and my son is called Áki.”

“Kvasir told me Áki is likely to be a scholar.”

“My father would deeply wish it so.”

“Lucky for us,” Loki grinned. It had been far too long since he had bantered with someone other than Thor properly. The Warriors Three had always had a bite to their words. “Asgard needs a few more brains in it, not more warriors.”

“Agreed,” Sverrir laughed, “I fear the younger warriors are getting more and more like mindless beasts.” He swung away from Loki, then stabbed at the ground with the staff and puffed out his chest, deepening his voice, “Warrior smash!”

Loki laughed at the impersonation in approval. “You sound like Thor.”

“Oh dear, must avoid that.”

Loki sidestepped and swiped Sverrir’s backside with the staff enough to gain a wince from him. “You were awfully agreeable today in council. Tell me,” He pointed at him with the staff. “Did you mean what you said, or did you mean to contradict the others, or did you mean to appeal to me?”

Sverrir rubbed at his backside with a grimace, “I won’t sit properly for days now, you blasted bilgesnipe!” He then realised what he had said and flushed.

Loki laughed, “Well I guess that answers the third option. Now what about the other two?”

“What were they again?” Sverrir asked, still rubbing his backside. Loki sighed in exasperation.

“I asked if you-”

Sverrir lunged, dodged Loki’s automatic defence and smacked him in the ribs. Loki let out a yell of pain, staggering sideways.

“A little bit of both if I’m to be honest,” Sverrir quipped.

Loki rubbed at the pain, glowering at him. “Well, that’s good to know.” He stabbed the staff into the ground and swung around on it, kicking Sverrir in the chest. Sverrir flew backwards and landed on his back. “If there’s one place the truth is always welcome, it’s in politics.”

Sverrir laughed as he squirmed on his back. “Indeed. And old men always love hearing they’re past their prime.”

Loki gave him a scolding look as he helped him up. “They still have some use in them. And they command great respect.”

“And how much is now unfounded?” Sverrir wondered, “You heard Tyr, he’s nothing but an old goat who spews vicious hate for the Jötnar, and that’s all he does now.”

Loki looked at him carefully. Sverrir was saying all the things Loki wanted to hear. But how much did he mean? He let some of his doubt show, letting Sverrir catch it. Sverrir smiled at him affectionately.

“Loki, I know it’s been a long time since we were children, but I do genuinely think you’re right about some things, especially in that I think we are overbearing on other realms –and it feels strange to say that without being sneered at.”

Loki still was unsure how far he could trust Sverrir, but he decided he would trust him enough for the moment that he would gain position.

“How would you feel about being my secretary?” he asked.

“I feel I would be the envy of many, many courtiers and very gladly accept.” Sverrir grinned at him. Loki smiled and relaxed a little. His mother had lamented his inability to trust, goodness knows why he struggled with that issue, but he needed allies, and he needed as many as he could gather.

“Good, consider it done.”

Sverrir knelt to Loki and pressed his fist to his heart, “Gratitude to you, know that I pledge my loyalty to you. And I always will.”

Loki wondered if this was how Thor felt, proud and warmed at the friendship and loyalty that was freely given because of shared beliefs and goals. No wonder he was always so cheerful.

“Stand… my friend.”

Sverrir looked up and grinned at him, “We are friends my king. I promise you.”

Loki narrowed his eyes, not liking that he was so readable to Sverrir. But despite the fact that Sverrir was very clever, there was one thing he had in common with Thor.

They were both terrible liars.

So Loki nodded and smiled.

After all, Kings need friends.

Maybe this one would be better than his brother’s.


	18. A Letter From Your Brother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tensions are mounting between the Aesir and the Humans, with Thor caught in the middle. Will a message from his brother help ease the strife?

Thor was at a bit of a loss.

A week had passed since his friends had arrived, and there was undeniable friction between them, and Jane, Darcy and Erik.

“Thor, Volstagg has eaten all of our food!” Jane yelled as she opened the refrigerator.

“Can you not procure more?” asked Thor, baffled.

“And where is the money going to come from for that?”

“You require funds for your food?”

“For God’s sake Thor! We’re not royalty living a golden city!” snapped Jane.

That had been rather embarrassing. Thor had assumed that, like at home, food was plentiful and easily come by. He apologised profusely, made Volstagg apologise too, and promised to find a way to make amends.

“There’s a simple way to fix this,” said Erik.

“Then by all means, tell me and we shall do it.” Thor swore.

“Get jobs!”

“Jobs?”

“Yes! You know, you perform services in return for payment.”

“I see… and what services can we offer? You said we cannot hunt, or slay monsters to protect this village.”

“Well… I know that Chase has been looking for a new barmaid, I could probably have a word with him for Sif,” said Darcy.  

“I will not be a tavern wench!” Sif snarled, “I am a warrior of Asgard, not a mere serving girl.”

“Warriors don’t earn money on this planet –unless you decide to run off to Somalia. Oh, but you don’t know what a gun is…” Darcy shrugged, “Guess the bar’s the only option. If you don’t want it maybe Fandral will do, he’s almost as pretty as a girl.”

“And there’s usually jobs going on fields for crop picking. We could ask around.” Jane suggested, trying not to look too exasperated with the situation.

“The fields are no place for the son of Odin, or members of the einherjar.” Volstagg said, but then shrank back when Erik slammed his coffee mug down in frustration.

“Tough. You wanna survive in our world, you play by our rules, and no one here gives a damn if you’re a hero or a prince in your world, you’re not here!”

“We have been fighting monsters and beasts since before you were born!” Fandral exclaimed with a grin, trying to make light of it all, “You must forgive us if we are a little set in our ways.”

“Set is one thing, but you people are so full of crap you’ll need the strongest laxative to fix it!” snorted Erik.

Darcy giggled, Jane wrinkled her nose in disgust, and the Asgardians just looked confused.

“I do not understand your words,” said Fandral.

“You don’t need to,” said Jane quickly. “Look, we get it, your world is very different, but you have to understand, by our standards you’re lacking some very basic skills. You can’t read or write English or Spanish or any Earth language. You can’t use computers, or any of our tech, so your choices will be incredibly limited.”

There was a knock on the door before anyone could speak again.

“More friends of yours?” Erik asked Thor, who shrugged, as Jane answered the door.

A man stood on the other side, “Package for Thor Odinson?”

Jane looked around at Thor in bewilderment, while Thor shrugged. “I am he, but I know not of any package.”

“This was dropped off for you at the courier company, with this address, here.” The man gave the package to Jane, and tipped his hat, “Have a good day.”

“You too!” Jane called before looking at the package as she shut the door.

The package was brown, very plain, rather flat and broad, and looked harmless as Jane set it down on the table gingerly. They all crowded around it, and Thor frowned at the handwriting on the back. He couldn’t read the words, but it was still familiar.

“That’s Loki’s writing.”

“Why would your brother send you a courier package?” Darcy asked, poking the package. Thor shrugged, then turned the package over.

“The seal of the king of Asgard,” Hogun muttered as the seal caught the light.

“Dude, that thing is cooler than the Hogwarts seal,” Darcy exclaimed as the golden wax shimmered and gleamed. Thor, his chest and stomach tensing with anticipation, broke the seal and opened the package. He pulled out a letter first.

“It’s addressed to Jane,” said Erik, looking very suspicious.

“Wh –why would your brother send me a letter?” Jane asked nervously as Thor held it out to her.

“I know not, but I assure you he’ll mean no harm.”

“How could he know who I am?”

“He can see everything from our fath –from his throne.” That was going to take some getting used to. “He has probably been keeping an eye on me since I got here. Loki always worries.”

“Open it! Not every day you get a letter from a king from another world!” Darcy exclaimed, drumming her hands on the back of a chair.

“Ok, Ok!” Jane opened the letter and started reading. As she read her expression changed from alarmed, to bemused, to surprise, and finally to amusement. “He says he’s very sorry for Thor inconveniencing us, and he’s extremely sorry that we’re, ah, laboured with the Warriors Three and Lady Sif now too. He says that now that things have calmed in Asgard, he’s had time to sort a few issues out for Thor so he can actually live on Earth.”

Thor’s stomach dropped, “He makes no mention of my return.”

Jane looked up and her eyes were kind, “He says he’s written a letter to you too, but that there’s nothing he can do to undo what your father did. You have to figure it out for yourself.”

“How have things calmed in Asgard, it’s been barely a week?” Volstagg demanded.

“It doesn’t say.”

“Well, maybe Thor’s letter will explain it.”

Thor lifted the sealed end of the package and tipped out everything onto the table.

“Oh my god!” Jane exclaimed, “Those are I.D.s! And birth certificates.”

“Is it me, or does that envelope look like it holds a lot of cash?” Darcy picked it up and felt it with her fingertips. “Oh yeah, there’s money in here.”

Thor ignored all that in favour of his letter, with his name and the symbol of Mjölnir on the envelope. Loki’s handwriting was a welcome sight. He picked it up and was about to open it, then changed his mind and tucked it into a pocket. He would read it privately. Erik was going through the pieces of paper and plastic that had been found inside.

“If these are fake, I can’t tell.” He divided them up into five. “He had one made for each of you. Huh –your birth-certs are Icelandic.”

“What does that mean?” Sif asked, picking up the plastic card with her name and image on it and examining it with mistrust.

“He gave you a Get Out of Jail Free card!” Erik said, “All you guys have to do is say you’re Icelandic and no one will wonder at your oddball ways. But American I.D.s, so no emigration problems. Look, certs saying you took the citizenship test.”

“Hello! Would you please open the cash envelope!” Darcy pushed the item into Thor’s hand and he opened it to please her. “Holy shit! Oh wow!”

“Oh my god!”

Thor knew the green pieces of paper held value, but he had no way of knowing how much he was holding, but judging by the reactions, it was a lot.

“Is this a lot of coinage for you?” he asked. Erik took it from him and started counting, his eyes growing bigger and bigger with every moment.

“Jane… there’s about twenty thousand dollars in here.”

“Is that a lot?”

“That’s a very good amount,” Erik confirmed. Jane boggled at it, then glanced down at the letter again.

“He did say he sent recompense for us housing them, and looking after them until they understood enough to survive. He, um, also added half the money was for food.”

“How did Loki even manage this?” Fandral wondered, as Darcy laughed.

“I know not, but if it is to aid us in surviving in this world, I welcome it,” said Thor. It made him feel so much better knowing his brother was looking after him in some small fashion. He let Erik and Darcy explain what the various items were for, one was to pass through ports, another identified their place of birth and parentage, and the final one was called a Social Security card and Thor had no idea what he was meant to do with it, he just had to keep it with him.

Afterwards, Jane suggested they go and get more clothing for everyone, since they had been living in the clothing they had brought.

“Go without me my friends,” Thor said, “I do not mind what you buy, I trust you to procure me suitable garments Jane.” He deliberately named Jane so that Sif or Volstagg would not try to clothe him like a prince. He knew it would not sit well with Erik.

“What will you do?” asked Jane.

“I would like to read my brother’s letter alone.”

“Then we shall give you privacy,” Hogun said, clapping him on the shoulder. When they were gone, Thor relaxed. In truth he was feeling exhausted from the tension between his friends. He had never had to work so hard to keep things calm before. That was usually Loki’s job.

Thor went up to the roof and sat on the edge, holding the letter in his hands for a while. He had no idea what he wanted to hear from Loki, whether he wanted Loki to offer comfort, or to yell at him through the pages. Yelling would be more familiar, comfort would be kinder.

Loki was a lot of things, but he was not kind when the situation did not require it.

Finally, Thor opened the letter and started to read it.

 

_Thor, Brother._

_I cannot decide if I want to kill you or not right now._

_I’m sure your dear friends have explained the situation. Father has fallen into the Odinsleep. When he did not awaken after the usual time, I consulted the head of Mimir. Firstly, he’s intolerably rude, and secondly, he said Father may never awaken again, as Mother feared. She thinks Father put the sleep off for so long while trying to prepare you for the throne, that it has caused him to sink deeper into it than ever before. From what I understand, it will be at least a year, if not more before Father returns to us._

_This of course means the burden of the throne has fallen to me. And let me tell you right this moment, I never wanted this! I never wanted the throne. All I ever wanted was to be your equal. Being king is nothing but frustrations and irritations –why you ever looked forward to it is beyond me._

_As to the matter of Jötunheim, things… escalated rather quickly. No sooner had your friends left Asgard to go into exile, than Laufey snuck into the palace and got into Father’s chambers, attempting to kill him as he slept. Father is fine. I killed Laufey before he could harm Father, and Mother is safe, she was with me in the Throne Room when I sensed Laufey’s presence. I summoned Laufey’s heir to Asgard and have settled the matter with him. There will be no war between Asgard and Jötunheim. Do me a favour when you do find a way out of your banishment, don’t go straight to Jötunheim to finish what you started. If you do, I’ll send you somewhere far worse than Midgard._

_Your banishment is a shadow on Asgard, everyone misses you. I’ve been thinking about what exactly Father is trying to teach you, but I have no idea what he wants. I was stunned that he banished his favoured son at all, so Norns know what he’s actually expecting of you. You will have noted I have provided some wealth and useful items for you. I sent them to help you focus on what you’re there to do, not to imply you’re stuck there. Figure out what Father wants, and you cannot do that if the Midgardian law enforcers are running after you because you possess no identification. Try to keep your head down and your friends quiet. Midgardians are uneasy when it comes to strangeness, and while I can see you have made some friends, you cannot expect them to become your servants. The wealth I provided I suggest you give to them to make use of, and try to assist where you can._

_Keep in mind that monarchs are not what they once were in Midgard, and where you are, the land is run by elected officials, including the head of state. Theoretically, everyone has a say in the land, and no one is allowed to deny anyone that right. The fact that you call yourself a prince will gain you no help, people will think you mad. As for your friends, their great deeds are now meaningless, no one cares they have hunted great beasts, and if they claim to have killed many foes, they will get in serious trouble. Fighting and death are not acceptable on Midgard, not even in the name of honour. Have fun breaking that to them. Keep the reason of your banishment to yourself, your mortal friends will not trust you if they find out you killed hundreds of frost giants for a petty insult._

_You are banished, that means I really cannot have any contact with you, however, you know me, never one to follow laws to the letter. And I’m not about to let you die if you get into trouble. So stay out of trouble and make life easier for me, I’m already fit to hang Tyr! Mother says I cannot. So much for absolute power._

_Oh, you’ll be amused to know I have acquired something of a second shadow. A boy called Thundi, he is five, has taken to following me around wherever he can. His parents are servants in the palace. He’s so constant now Geri and Freki ignore him completely. He’s a sweet child, but I’m not sure what to do with him. Sverrir, Kvasir’s son whom I have made my King’s Secretary, thinks it is hilarious, but he has a five year old son that can play with Thundi if they meet, so that gives me some peace._

_I have to go now, another council meeting is about to start. Probably need to discuss the new curtains in the healing room. I shall say only this._

_Stay safe. Come home. Or so help me I will kill you!_

_Loki, The Very Irritated King of Asgard._

 

Thor had tears running down his cheeks even as he smiled at the paper. Everything about this letter was very much his brother. To the point, irritable, worried, sarcastic and scolding. It was like Loki was talking in his ear as he read it. Thor did wonder how Loki knew so much about Midgard, but he dismissed it, after all Loki knew everything.

His smile fell as he reread the piece about Laufey. He had almost slain Odin, and it was all Thor’s fault. If Loki was right, then trying to teach Thor lessons he refused to heed had weakened their father so he was lost to Odinsleep like this. He had harmed his father with his stupidity.

Loki had slain Laufey and still managed to keep war from happening. No small feat. And yet, as Thor thought about telling his friends, he remembered Sif’s words, calling Loki a coward. Surely she would not dare call him such when he told her Loki had killed the King of the Frost Giants.

His eyes shifted back to those two small lines.

_‘I never wanted the throne. All I ever wanted was to be your equal.’_

Of course Loki was his equal! Well, yes, Loki was not as good at fighting as Thor was, or at least, not in the more honourable way, but Thor knew Loki would never be in danger during a battle. And maybe Loki relied too much on seiðr rather than his strength but the fact was Thor could make it up for both of them… or he once could.

He had read the letter many times by the time the others arrived back. Thor wiped his face before joining them down in the kitchen.

“We just got you basics, jeans and t-shirts and a couple of hoodies,” said Jane as she held out bags to him. Thor tucked the letter into his pocket and accepted them with a grateful smile.

“Thank you.” He looked at the others, “And what did you procure my friends?”

“Much the same as you,” Fandral sighed, “Sir Erik made an excellent argument for simplicity until we know better what we are going to be doing with ourselves.”

“Sif didn’t like the shoes,” Hogun grunted as he sat down heavily.

“They were all too unstable, like the sorts of shoes that Vanirian Princess wears,” Sif said irritably. “All I required was a sturdy pair, but I had to go through dozens of ones with spiked heels. And while they might make excellent weapons, they are not designed to remain on the foot.”

Erik pressed two fingers to his temple and jerked his head as if suffering a blow behind Sif before walking away.

“Be thankful I didn’t try to stick you in any Armadillo shoes,” Darcy said primly, fixing her glasses.

“Where is Volstagg?” Thor asked, noticing the largest man was absent.

“Still getting all the food we bought from the truck,” said Jane with a shrug.

“We have enough food to feed the town for a month,” said Erik as he started rearranging things in the fridge.

“So with Volstagg around, it should last a week,” Fandral quipped, making them all laugh. As it faded, Sif looked at Thor with expectant eyes,

“Did Loki say what happened with Jötunheim?”

“Ah, yes!” Thor reached to take out the letter, but then dropped his hand, settling for saying, “He said Laufey got into the Palace, and he made an attempt on my father’s life.”

“What?” bellowed Volstagg, almost dropping the food he was carrying.

“Oh my God!” Jane gasped, covering her mouth.

“Do not worry my friends, he is well, Loki slew Laufey before he could harm him.”

Fandral’s mouth fell open, “Loki slew Laufey?” he asked incredulously. “He actually killed him?”

“Yes. Why is that so surprising?”

“Loki does not kill very often.”

“Laufey threatened his father, what other action would he have taken?” Hogun asked, tilting his head to the side in thought.

“Well yes, but Loki… It’s just surprising.”

“Loki is as capable as any of killing a man if needed,” Thor said defensively.

“And what of after?” Sif asked urgently, “Is there to be war?”

“No, Loki says he dealt with the heir of Laufey and there is to be no war.”

“Well that’s great,” said Jane smiling, then looking unsure, “Isn’t it?”

Thor gave her a reassuring look, “Of course it is Jane. It is just… unexpected. I cannot imagine what Loki did to bring about peace.”

“Probably used that silver tongue of his,” Volstagg chuckled, setting the food bags on the table. “Still… good for Loki for killing that monster.”

“He also expressed words of caution to us,” Thor said, trying to remember them. As much as he cared for his friends, he wanted to keep the letter as private as he could. “Advice on how to survive here. Apparently we are not to go around saying we have killed people.”

“But they were mighty foes.”

“Yeah, still won’t go down well around here.” Darcy said with wide eyes. “Killers are killers around here for the most part.”

“And we are not to fight with anyone, even if they insult us.”

“How are we to defend our honour?” demanded Sif.

“With words, or non-engagement.” said Jane firmly.

“Non-engagement?” Hogun asked.

“Someone gives you trouble, walk away.”

Fandral snorted, “You cannot be serious Lady Jane! You would have us sacrifice our honour?”

Thor sighed as he sat down, “My friends, if I had only done so when that Jötun called me ‘little princess’ we would all be on Asgard right now feasting.”

A sombre silence fell over them all as they were forced to acknowledge the truth in that statement. Thor swallowed and then looked up at Jane,

“We spoke of jobs earlier. Tell me how I may acquire one so I may do my part.”

Jane gave Darcy the task of finding them all jobs. As she babbled about what would be something they could do, Thor determined he would make the best of this situation until he could figure out what Odin wanted from him. If Loki could not figure it out, it had to be something exceptional, something unimaginable. But if Thor ever wanted to get home, he would have to figure it out.

**~*~**

Agent Couslon was quite used to dealing with strange situations, one did not work for S.H.I.E.L.D. and not get used to them. But this was particularly interesting.

He had just gotten a letter, it had popped out of nowhere in front of him and landed at his feet. His name written on it in precise writing. Coulson had had it examined thoroughly before opening it, just to be safe. If the security footage had not caught it appearing before him, and the scanning equipment not detected the slight energy shift, he might not have believed the letter had appeared.

There was a picture of ‘Donald Blake’ with four other people that his agents had been watching since they had wandered into the town he was observing for odd activity.

The letter was the most fascinating thing he had ever read and when he was done, he called his second.

“Let’s give Dr Foster back her equipment.”

“Sir?”

“And look up all you can on Norse Mythology.”

His second gave him a look of confusion, but did not question him further. Coulson smiled. It was good to be him sometimes.

 _‘Well King Loki, I look forward to meeting you eventually.’_ He thought to himself, _‘Captain Fury on the other hand… may take some convincing.’_


	19. An Unexpected Guest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heimdall and Loki have it out, and Sigyn comes to visit.

Loki sat in the middle of his bed, staring at his hands. They were clean now, but he could still remember the feeling of blood upon them. Laufey’s blood. Swallowing, Loki curled his fingers into tight fists and closed his eyes. Then he rose to his feet and set off.

Heimdall was waiting for him at the Bifrost Observatory.

“Tell me Loki, how did you get the Jötnar into Asgard?”

Loki stood before him, unflinching as they glared at each other.

“Does that matter anymore?”

“I think it does. A warrior must have faith in his king, and how can he if that king is unworthy of trust?”

Loki smirked, “You think Odin never did anything underhanded? Never made decisions that would be considered dishonourable for the greater good?”

Heimdall was silent. Loki’s smirk widened, “You know better than that Heimdall. Besides, it is not your place to question me. I think it’s time you and I had a talk about your duties and your loyalties.”

Heimdall lifted his chin, as Loki advanced on him, “I hear you’ve spoken with my wife.”

Heimdall stiffened, “… I have spoken with Princess Sigyn.”

Loki nodded, “You are from Vanaheim’s coast, aren’t you? Which would make you a Mjola Vanir, like King Njordr, with all the ideals and attitudes of that culture.”

Heimdall nodded, “I was raised by nine women, sisters, on a small island off the coast of the Brenna river.”

“Nine women?” Loki grinned, “Who’d have guessed. Völva, I’m sure.”

Heimdall nodded again. 

Loki folded his arms and looked Heimdall square in the eyes, “So what do you have to say about my marriage?”

“Do you really wish to have my opinion?” Heimdall asked. Loki tilted his head, then nodded,

“Oddly enough, yes.”

Heimdall said nothing for a long time, then he said,

“What did you do to warrant her love?”

Loki frowned, “That was not an answer.”

“Answer me and I shall give you mine,” Heimdall said.

Loki clenched one hand into a fist. Heimdall had no business speaking to him this way, he was the king! Then he closed his eyes and forced himself to relax. While he may be burning with anger, and he may feel he was owed some measure of respect as the king, he knew that sometimes the only way to deal with someone’s disrespect, was to show them they were wrong about you. So he opened his eyes and said,

“Allow me to tell you a story…”

Loki talked, for hours he talked, and probably revealed more to Heimdall in this one night than Heimdall had ever learned about him in all his life. Heimdall remained standing, but Loki sat on the edge of the Bifrost bridge, feet dangling over the running water. It was easier to not look at Heimdall as he talked. He was taking a huge risk by revealing so much, although he was not stupid enough to reveal everything, or even half of it, but he teased out enough of his history with Sigyn to give Heimdall something to grab onto.

When he fell silent, the sky was turning grey as the sun began to rise. Heimdall had not moved once in all the time he had talked, and Loki had not expected him to. It was surprisingly calming to talk about this to someone, anyone and he had perhaps let himself drift a little.

Heimdall stirred behind him and approached Loki from behind, who held still and silent as he waited. He heard the ring of steel as Heimdall lifted his sword and the edge pressed against Loki’s neck. Loki sighed, thoughtfully planning every way he could get out of this.

“You have taken the Princess of Vanaheim to your bed, married her without the consent of the realm. By all rights you should be owed a painful death for your actions.”

Loki lifted his head and stared up at the sky, as the moons started to fade with the light, his heartbeat steady and true. He already knew Heimdall’s next words.

“Yet… I cannot ignore her words… or yours. You really do love her… and it is not a childish love.”

Loki tilted his head back, away from the blade, to stare up at Heimdall without conveying a thing. Heimdall matched him expression for expression. Finally, Heimdall took the sword away from his neck, and stepped back.

“I will obey my princess, in that I shall tell no one of this, provided that we have an understanding that you will honour her and make her the Queen of Asgard as is her right.”

Loki rose to his feet gracefully, “There is nothing I want more. But you know it will take time. For all Sigyn’s jokes about telling Odin, for all my oaths of making a confession, we never could have just sprung it upon the court. It will take me time to achieve everything she deserves.”

“More lies. Does it ever stop for you Loki?”

Loki grinned, “Only when the door of my bed chamber shuts… and she is there with me.”

“I ask again, how can a warrior have faith in a king who is unworthy of trust?”

“Because he knows that the king wants only the best for his realm. And that is all I have ever wanted.”

Heimdall did not speak and Loki stepped forward, “What do you think would have happened if Thor had become King of Asgard and Odin slipped away into sleep? It would have taken nothing but a slight to send him to war… he would have forced that stupid couple expecting their illegitimate child to marry, condemning all three to a life of misery. He and his best friends would have strutted through the palace as if they could do anything and get away with it –they would have been a disaster! Do you not see that?”

Heimdall considered it, then said, “It was not your place to decide such things.”

“Well it is now,” Loki said without flinching.

“Yes… it is now,” Heimdall agreed. As usual, his expression gave nothing away as they stared at each other. Then Heimdall bowed slightly to him. “I have kept you long enough, my king.”

Loki nodded, “Return to your post Heimdall, keep an eye on Thor for me.”

Heimdall nodded, his gaze already glazing over as he reached out to the universe. They were not agreed to one another, but neither did Heimdall want his head any more. That was at least some improvement.      

 

**~*~**

It had been two months since Loki had ascended to the throne and thankfully a sense of balance and stability had been reached. Loki had kept most of the procedures of the court the same, save he had tried to speed up certain areas, such as the letter sorting, and the dealing with petitioners, streamlining them and making them less awkward.

Most of Odin’s personal servants had graciously accepted reassignment, with Loki promising them their old jobs as soon as Odin awoke. Thankfully, Loki had never had many problems with servants, since he generally knew their names and roles which none of the lendmenn could claim, or even his mother. Unless of course they made fun of him, like that idiot who had laughed at Thor’s coronation, then he would not be kind. 

As to the lendmenn, things had reached a plateau with them as well. They were learning they could not make Loki do anything he did not want to, but they had also seen that he could be reasoned with if they felt strongly enough about their position, so long as they did not try to force it. Loki did not react well to being snapped at, or bullied, the way Tyr had tried. Loki could argue, could debate quite happily with them all for hours if he had to. Gradually, they were learning to work together, although there was still plenty of friction going on under the surface. Old Ideals and Traditions were clashing with Youth and Innovation, as Sverrir put it.

The families of Lady Sif, Fandral and Volstagg had come and knelt to him, swearing their loyalty and deriding their children’s treason with formal, stiff words. Interestingly, Tyr had knelt with his brother as he and his wife condemned their daughter’s actions. Loki had assured them he had faith in them, and allowed them to offer him wergild as an apology. To his delight, the wergild had been the best weapons of the three, something they would bitterly lament losing when they found out.

Hogun had no family in Asgard, no family at all as far as Loki knew, so there was no one to chase after. The shame and humiliation on Fandral and Sif’s parents as they knelt before him was a heady experience, Fandral’s father was a hirdmann, full of airs and graces he had passed on to his son, while Sif’s parents, being related to Tyr had enjoyed a comfy position among the highest nobility. It was less fun when Volstagg’s parents did it, they were old and frightened, little more than peasants. Loki had not the heart to play with them, so he had accepted their words and sent them away.   

Loki was doing his best to keep a level head. It was much easier now that things had quieted down in regards to the frost giants, it meant he could pretend that was all someone else’s problem and his only task was keeping Asgard running. It worked for the most part, until he went to bed. Then he found himself dreaming, reliving the last moments of Laufey’s life. Sometimes things changed and Odin awoke in time to see Loki do it, and in some dreams he embraced Loki and said that yes, Loki was his son. Other times, Odin condemned him as a kingslayer and sent him hurtling over the edge of the Bifrost. Loki would wake in a cold sweat from these dreams and reach out for Sigyn, only to remember she was not there.

The only letter he had received in the two months from her had been a brief one.

_You killed Laufey? What have you done? What were you thinking? Just you wait until I get my hands on you!_

Loki expected her to show up every night, but she never did, and for once Loki was glad there was time and distance between them for a while, because Sigyn needed time to cool off before she saw him, or she would probably do some damage.

Another month went by without a word, and Loki was beginning to worry. On the first day of the third month, Loki was calling the court to order, when a guard entered and knelt before him.

“My king! I have word from Heimdall. Princess Sigyn has just arrived in Asgard and is requesting an audience with you.”

Excited murmurings floated across the court while Loki sat up straighter in surprise. Usually he had a warning for Sigyn’s public arrival, for his own sake as much as anything else.

“Of course, send her in. Abjörn.”

Abjörn jumped forward, looking up expectantly at Loki.

“Have food and drink readied to welcome the Princess properly. And inform My Lady the King’s Mother that the Princess is here.”

“At once my king!” Abjörn scurried away, looking happy to have something to do, while the court whispered speculations amongst themselves. Loki beckoned to Sverrir, who rushed up the steps to bend his ear to Loki’s mouth.

“Please tell me that this isn’t a case that I haven’t received a letter,” Loki said to him. Sverrir shook his head,

“I don’t believe so. Perhaps she is replying to the letters you sent to her parents, announcing your accession. After all, it would be customary for such a meeting with a new king. And considering we had to deal with Jötunheim, our allies may have decided to give us some space.”

Loki nodded, agreeing that made perfect sense, although it did not explain why Sigyn had not told him she was coming.

Loki dealt with a few petitioners as they waited for Sigyn to travel across the Bifrost and into the palace. When a page ran in to say she was in the palace, everyone stood in their proper place, and Frigga arrived in time to sit in her throne. Loki shared a smile with his mother, trying not to look too excited, and he carefully touched his helmet to make sure it was sitting right. Sigyn was his wife, he wanted to impress her.

The doors swung open and Sigyn strode in. Soft gasps of delight fell from lips, and Loki’s brain tripped over itself at the sight of her. Near him, Sverrir gulped audibly, which nearly made Loki laugh or glare at him, he was not sure which he wanted to do more.

Sigyn wore a dark blue garment, with panels of cloth covering strategic places, one covered her breasts and collar, tied at her neck, then travelled down to her hips, with a large piece missing in the middle, exposing her navel. Her sides and arms were bare, with the skirt of her dress barely reaching her knees at the front and descending to the floor into a train behind her. Her hair was caught up in an elaborate style of curls and braids, with blue flowers forming a wreath that set the cream coloured hair glowing. Her distaff and dagger were at her hip and her staff of seiðr and royalty was in her hand.

What held Loki’s attention though, for he had seen Sigyn in such enticing garments before, were the designs painted on her exposed skin. Flowers and spots and spirals and swirls had been painted in detailed and intricate patterns on her stomach, her arms and her sides. The marks were almost black against her warm skin and Loki could feel the seiðr radiating off her as she strode towards him without looking away. He swallowed and tried not to sound as aroused as he was as he greeted her,

“Princess Sigyn of Vanaheim, you are most welcome to Asgard once more.”

“King Loki, your welcome is gladly received,” Sigyn declared and Loki’s eyes lit up. That tone of voice was full of games, full of promises. She wanted him to act the king, to prove himself to her. Loki could do that.

Sigyn finally reached him and she bent the knee and bent her back in a Vanirian bow, her eyes fixed on Loki’s, which was a sign of great respect in her realm. Loki smiled.

“What brings you to Asgard? I hope all is well in Vanaheim.”

“All is wonderful in Vanaheim, King Loki. My parents, the king and queen of Vanaheim, have entrusted me with the power to swear their fealty to you, King Loki of Asgard.” Sigyn drew her dagger and pointed the hilt at Loki. Loki grinned and nodded,

“By all means, it is most welcome.”

Sigyn’s voice was loud, steady and serious as she spoke, “As long as the plains of Vanaheim give food, as long as the mountains pierce the sky, as long as the oceans swell with the pull of our moons, as long as seiðr flows through the universe, binding everything together, in full knowledge of past and present, I, Sigyn Njordsdóttir, Crown Princess, Sacred Healer and High Priestess of the Vanirians do swear this oath of fealty, of kinship and loyalty to you, King Loki Odinson of Asgard on behalf of my realm.”

Her amber eyes were glittering with enjoyment and Loki could not deny himself the same pleasure. They were like children finally permitted to be adults. He rose to his feet and stood above her, but never had he felt they were more equal. He summoned his sword, Laevateinn, from where it was kept in his chambers, and pointed the hilt at Sigyn.

“For as long as the cities of Asgard stand, as long as our mountains rise, as long as our winds blow, for as long as the waters run, and the clouds are above and beneath us, for as long as the might of Asgard’s heart beats, and the warriors of Asgard stand strong, for as long as the binding seiðr keeps Yggdrasil fed, in full knowledge of past and present, I, Loki Odinson, King of Asgard, do swear protection, kinship, and loyalty to you Sigyn Njordsdóttir, Crown Princess of Vanaheim on behalf of my realm.”

Sigyn smirked with delight, “Let nothing put these oaths asunder, let no realm separate our bond. So sworn here in the presence of this court, and witnessed by the Norns.”

“So sworn here,” Loki agreed.

As one they banged their staffs to the ground, filling the hall with a deafening sound, and seiðr visible in the colours of the rainbow, of gold and silver and colours with no names, started to flow around them, sealing their oaths together into the tapestry of seiðr that permeated the universe. The seiðr flowed through Loki’s system, and he closed his eyes at the sensation, inhaling deeply to let it seep into him. When he opened his eyes, Sigyn looked as satisfied as he felt. There was an awed hush over the court, they had never seen seiðr like that before. They thought Odin was the most powerful sorcerer in the Nine Realms, but Loki and Sigyn were beyond Odin, who saw seiðr as a tool, and not as a gift to revel in.

“A fitting beginning,” Loki said, wanting to walk down the steps to stand with her, but he was unsure if he should. Sigyn must have sensed his hesitation because she smiled at him as she sheathed her dagger.

“To be followed by a lengthy tale one would hope. I also have an answer to your second letter.”

Loki had to think for a moment, then he remembered the letter he had attached to the first one declaring his accession. He passed his sword to Sverrir to be returned to his chambers.

“I see. I would guess not the answer I had hoped for, seeing as your hands are empty.”

Sigyn smirked as she stepped to the side, “You guess wrongly good king.”

With a flick of her hand, a large bulk appeared next to her. Books piled on top of one another and bound together. Loki could not keep the glee from his face any more than he could stop breathing.

“You are very generous!” he declared stepping down to examine the large collection. “How many books are here?”

“A thousand.”

“A thousand?” Loki asked quietly, barely able to believe her. Sigyn nodded,

“You made the request for as many books as possible on the subjects you listed.” Sigyn explained, picking up one book and holding it out to him, “I think you’ll find this one particularly fascinating.”

Loki took it and scanned the title. ‘The Pre-History of the Nine Realms.’ He glanced up and saw the gleam in Sigyn’s eyes. It was clear she was still angry with him, but was covering it like she had been taught.

“My king?”

Loki looked around, as Kvasir stepped forward, “Kvasir, I sent word to Vanaheim and Alfheim, asking for more books on their own and the other Nine Realms. I found us woefully lacking when I went looking for knowledge on Jötunheim. I decided to request more information from our allies.”

Kvasir was almost drooling as he looked at the books. “Oh… this is so generous Princess.”

Sigyn smiled, “I am glad you think so Kvasir, my tutor assisted me.”

“You are both very kind.”

Frigga took this moment to descend from her own throne and embrace Sigyn. “Oh, it warms my heart to see you Sigyn.”

Sigyn held Frigga’s hands in hers, “As your presence does mine my queen, I am truly sorry for the tragedies that have befallen you.”

“Thank you. But you should know I am not titled queen. My son has seen fit to give me a new title. I am now ‘My Lady the King’s Mother’.”

Sigyn’s eyes widened and she smiled, “What a lovely title,” while her foot slipped back and she crushed Loki’s toes under her heel. Loki stared at the book in his hands fixedly until she stepped off.

“There are books here I have never heard of!” Kvasir exclaimed.

“That’s rather the point Kvasir,” said Loki, “I wanted to make sure we have all the knowledge we could ever need at our fingertips.”

“Well, you’ll certainly keep the pages and attendants to the library busy for months.” Kvasir bowed to Sigyn, “Thank you princess, sincerely.”

“Yes,” Loki agreed quietly, “Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” Sigyn said, smiling at him mildly. Frigga squeezed Sigyn’s hands and said,

“You must tell me everything that has happened since we last saw you.” She looked to Loki for permission and he nodded,

“Of course, let’s go out to the gardens.”

With a gesture for attendance, Loki offered Sigyn his right arm, since she was the guest she took precedence over his mother. Kvasir stepped forward and offered Frigga his arm. As they walked out, the men and women of the court followed, and Loki knew he would have to do a round of introductions to Sigyn, if only to reassure the people that no one was in disgrace with him. The mercurial world of court.

“My Lady the King’s Mother? Really?” Sigyn asked in a soft undertone as they led the way through the palace. Loki smirked faintly,

“It seemed appropriate for the situation.”

“And you knew it would annoy me,” she sighed, digging her fingers into his inner elbow.

“Well… perhaps.” Loki hid a full on grin.

“As if I was not already angry with you.” Sigyn looked up at him, eyes burning with rage. Loki sighed and met her eyes.

“It’s done. Nothing can undo it.”

“Indeed. Pity for you when you regret this.”

They reached the gardens and could say no more privately as they all gathered around the large fountain, which showed Asgard at the top, with water flowing from it down to the rest of the Nine Realms. Sigyn plucked a dead leaf from the water flowing around Vanaheim and tossed it away.

Formal introductions were made, first, Loki introduced her to his advisors, then Frigga brought the ladies of the court to her. Thanks to protocol, the ladies tended to follow Frigga around, in absence of a Queen Consort. Freyja rushed forward and kissed her princess on the palm, displaying a shocking amount of humility for the arrogant and vain woman.

“Oh my princess!” she gushed, “It fills me with such joy to be in your presence once again! And to see you so radiant in ceremonial garb and markings…”

Sigyn gave her ‘princess’ smile, a mix of benevolent, sweet and regal that she had practised for hours, and patted Freyja’s hand. “Thank you Freyja, I am glad to see you so well.”

Freyja beamed and returned to her brother, where they proceeded to openly admire Sigyn as she was introduced to the other ladies, Idunn, Eir, Gerd, Nanna, Sjofn, Vor and Ilmr, Sverrir’s wife. Loki hid a smirk as he watched the interactions. Idunn, Bragi’s wife, was sweet looking, but could be very jealous of anyone who came near her apples, which she spent nearly all her time caring for. Eir was the oldest woman there, she was the healer of Asgard and immediately queried if she could learn of Sigyn’s work as Sacred Healer. Gerd was Freyr’s wife and she was a quiet, demur woman who got an extra gentle greeting from Sigyn. Everyone knew about Freyr’s ugly marriage.

Nanna was Delling’s daughter, she was younger than Loki, pretty and skilled at embroidery and anything that required a delicate touch. Utterly boring to talk to for Loki, who needed someone who would banter with him, she was also prone to fits of emotion that Loki steadfastly refused to call hysteria, but had never figured out a better word for. Sjofn was one of Loki’s favourite women at court, mostly because she reminded him of Queen Aetril, the Queen of the Ljósálfar. Vor was a stern, serious woman, married to Forseti, who gave Sigyn a dubious look over as she greeted her.

Sigyn knew every one of their names, and all the dirty gossip Loki had ever found about them and he could see her slotting new observations into her mind as she greeted them. Once introductions were done, servants brought drinks and they began to converse.

“I must say Princess, we did not anticipate your arrival,” said Kvasir, “Not that it is unwelcome of course.”

Sigyn shrugged, “I decided it would be best to visit Asgard’s new king before something else came up in Vanaheim that would keep me busy for weeks. I do apologise for the suddenness of my arrival, but it would have wasted time to send word and wait for a reply. I have been exceedingly busy attending to my rites and rituals and could not wait another moment to come and see my old friend sitting on the throne.”

“You obviously came straight from celebrations,” Frigga said, tucking her hand into Loki’s elbow as she stood next to him, “You are still bearing the markings of fertility.”

Loki silently thanked his mother for breaking the ice about Sigyn’s extraordinary look. Usually when she came to Asgard, she dressed more like an Asynjur, an Asgardian woman. But despite sharing blood and a deep history, Vanaheim and Asgard were very different cultures. That was probably exactly why she had come like this, to remind them all of Vanaheim’s own culture.

“It really was a simple matter of comfort, and since I was coming on behalf of my realm in an official capacity, I thought I should dress appropriately.”

Vor and Forseti were clearly thinking there was nothing appropriate about that dress. Loki had met Puritans more liberal than those two.

“I was also told to discover if the rumours were true regarding the Frost Giants.” Sigyn added, sipping her wine.

“Depends on the rumours I suppose,” Loki said with a smirk.

“It is said there was to be war, then there was to be no war, for Laufey was killed and his heir has made peace with you.”

Loki had to give her credit, she was well informed.

“All of those rumours are true. Helblindi Laufeyson and I have made a tentative peace treaty.”

“Even after you slew his father?”

“He was sensible enough to know no good would come of any attempt at war.”

Sigyn stared at Loki over the rim of her cup as she sipped her mead. Her eyes were razor sharp and Loki knew he would have to figure out a way to make her understand he had done the best possible thing for everyone. He could do that, surely.

Sigyn lowered her cup and sneered at him when no one was looking.

Loki swallowed. This would be harder than he expected.


	20. The Needs of A Wife

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disappointment is always worse than anger, as Loki recalls when he tries to make peace with Sigyn.

Abjörn was very good at his post. He had servants bringing wine and food, waving fans to keep them all cool, and musicians playing soft music. Loki sipped at his drink and watched Sigyn carefully as she talked to his nobles and their wives.

“I must admit Princess, I’m surprised to see you absent your usual entourage,” said Bragi with a faint glimmer in his eyes, “The Svana and the Ey are usually at your heels wherever you go.”

Sigyn went ridged next to Loki, then relaxed and re-fixed her princess smile. “I asked them to remain in Vanaheim, and somehow got them to agree. Since I’m only planning to be here for the day and night, it seemed excessive to bring them with me.”

Loki had a suspicion that she had probably snuck away from her controlling madams. Normally they were her shadows, dogging her footsteps.

“Do you know how to dress yourself so well without them?” asked Nanna. Loki narrowed his eyes at her in irritation as Sigyn tilted her head and said,

“I am perfectly capable of dressing well without Svana Þrír picking out my clothing, but it makes her so happy to do so. How could I possibly deny her the honour?”

Loki half tried to hide his amusement as Frigga smiled indulgently and squeezed Sigyn’s arm.

“It can be a relief to get away from everything once in a while. I know that’s why my sons are constantly off on hunting adventures.”

“Well, I must admit it is… a change,” Sigyn said in a careful voice. “And change is always good.”

An awkward silence passed over the group, which Loki knew was Sigyn’s intention. He cleared his throat softly and said,

“Princess, why don’t we go and pay Sleipnir a visit. I know you’ve always been fond of him.”

Sigyn’s smile was genuine as she nodded. Sleipnir was delighted to see Loki and just as happy to see Sigyn. The other courtiers waited outside as Loki and Sigyn went to pet the black horse. 

“Oh I would love to go for a ride on his back,” Sigyn sighed, her hands sweeping along his neck. Loki smiled and scratched at Sleipnir’s forehead.

“Maybe tomorrow, we could go for a ride,” heoffered, already relishing the idea. Sigyn looked at him and her smile dimmed just a fraction.

“If it pleases your majesty,” she demurred and Loki knew she was refusing. He also knew she would refuse any and all offers of fun and games until they had talked. He sighed faintly, then had to catch himself when Sleipnir head-butted him hard in the chest. Sleipnir had always smelled the intimacy between them, and currently he sensed the strife and he did not approve. Loki soothed Sleipnir with a gentle hand on his muzzle. Sigyn ran her fingers through his black mane, admiring him, “He really is a wonderful creature.”

Loki smiled with pride and pleasure. “One of my favourite works.”

“It’s a pity you didn’t stick with creating life rather than ending it,” Sigyn said with a nasty smirk. Loki’s fingers tightened into a fist at his side in frustration.

“Can we have this argument properly when we have a private moment?”

Sigyn regarded him coolly for a moment, then nodded. Their tense silence was interrupted by Abjörn, who bowed deeply to them,

“Apologies majesty, highness, for the interruption, but the feast is ready.”

“Thank you Abjörn, we’ll be along soon,” Loki said with a smile. Abjörn bowed again and left. Sigyn watched him go, then looked back.

“Isn’t that Odin’s Chief Groom?”

“He was, now he is mine.”

Sigyn snorted, “You’d never have anyone waking you and dressing you.”

Loki shrugged, “I made a deal with Abjörn, he gives me his loyalty and his ear for gossip, and I let him remain as the King’s Chief Groom in everything save attendance to my person, because if anyone enters my chambers without my knowledge again, I’ll show them how unkind a king I can be.”

“Making friends as usual,” Sigyn sighed, stroking the velvety soft muzzle. Loki chuckled,

“Just trying to stay the balance in my favour.”

“As usual,” she muttered, stepping away from Sleipnir with a final pat. Loki’s smile faltered.

“Sigyn…”

“We don’t want to keep the court waiting,” she said coolly. Loki sighed and nodded.

The feast was long, or perhaps it just felt that way. Loki was right next to Sigyn, but he could not touch her, and when he engaged her in conversation, she made it absolutely clear she was only putting on a show for the court, and would not play with him in word games, or joke about the court or anything he tried to play. It was maddening!

It was bad enough that it was impossible for him to ignore how she looked so appealing in that dress, with those markings… but he was also starting to lose his patience with her sanctimonious outrage. He could handle her upset with him, but there was something distinctly arrogant about her behaviour that was starting to get to him. Yet, as he watched her, he caught the familiar hints of exhaustion tugging at her expression, and he wondered when she had last slept well.

“How are your parents, princess?” asked Frigga.

“They are well. My mother is in her manor, it’s the best time for skiing there, while my father is overseeing the construction of his newest ships.”

“It must be nearly time for the annual tour around the planet.”

Every year Vanaheim’s king and queen would go on a tour of Vanaheim, to remind their subjects of their power and grace. The civil war that had led to the unification of Vanaheim had nearly ripped the planet apart, and there had been many factions to put down after the war. It was the stuff of legend, hearing tales of how Queen Skadi, heavy with the child that would be Sigyn, rode down her enemies with a berserker rage worthy of Odin and Thor, while King Njordr wound tendrils of oaths and promises around the necks of the cleverer men, drawing them under his yoke. Asgard’s nobility mocked the king and queen’s bad marriage, because it was less unnerving than remembering just how dangerous they could be.  

“Once yes, but for the past few centuries my parents have reduced the tour to every decade. The peace has held well, and there have been no rebellions since I was a girl. I, myself, have spent the past three months on a tour of the temples, performing various rites and rituals,” said Sigyn with a tense smile.

“You must get to see every secret place of Vanaheim, the way I used to dream as a girl growing up in the Horoaland Moors,” said Frigga. Sigyn spread her hands with an affable smile,

“I am afraid I see nothing that my Svana do not wish me to see. We travelled between temples at night, and with such heavy guard that there is little to see.”

“Then you should go without them,” said Loki shortly, biting into some of his chicken, “If there’s no need for an annual tour, why would you need such a ridiculously heavy guard?”

Sigyn looked at him coolly, “My people feel better knowing I am safe.”

Loki shrugged, “A gilded cage is still a cage.”

Sigyn regarded him for a long moment, during which time Loki wondered if he was actually pushing for a fight or not. Fights usually ended with sex, good, hot, aggressive sex, which he had not had for almost three months. Maybe Sigyn needed it too, she was as tense as a twisted string, but then again… Loki had a feeling she wasn’t looking for a post-fight sex brawl. This was more than that.

Sigyn gave a chilling smirk and her voice was sweet and soft as she said, “Perhaps, your majesty, if you had a stronger guard on this palace, the frost giants would never have infiltrated your Vault, and King Laufey would never have gotten so close to the All-Father.”

Loki felt the blood leave his face as he stared at her, how could she bring this up? Loki was doing his level best to brush it away without having to accuse anyone innocent of helping them.

“I’ll take that under advisement,” he growled, “Nothing gets past your guards, does it?”  

Sigyn’s cheeks flushed and she turned in her chair to face him fully. “Don’t,” she whispered, leaning towards him, lips barely moving, “Don’t compare it. Not that.”

Instantly Loki felt like a heel and his shoulders dropped. Sigyn sipped her wine and looked into the cup,

“Even caged birds get to fly eventually, even if it’s after death.”

Loki frowned and his hand twitched at his side, wanting to touch her. Sigyn drained her cup and gestured for more.

“There seem to be more children in the hall than the last time I was here,” she said to Frigga with a fake smile. Frigga nodded, her smile was genuine,

“Yes, so many bright young faces, another generation beginning.”

“The way you seem to live in cycles,” said Sigyn, shaking her head, “One cycle ends, another begins… back home it’s all happening at once. A whole mishmash of ages passing me by as I eat my breakfast on my balcony… Asgard really is a world of lines and grids, isn’t it?”

Frigga looked at her in confusion, “I’m not sure what you mean my dear.”

Sigyn drained her cup again, then turned to Loki, regarding him coolly,

“Majesty, would you mind if I retired for the night? It’s been quite some time since I have rested well.”

Loki gave her a stony look, “Of course. The chambers you have stayed in before have been prepared for you.” Loki rose to bow her out, along with everyone else. He gave it an hour and a half before excusing himself to his own bedchambers. Sigyn was not waiting for him. He changed into his nightclothes and paced, waiting for her to arrive, but she did not.

Now he was really beginning to lose his patience. He cloaked himself with a spell and quickly hurried his way along to the guest bedchambers. He slipped inside and found her, in her nightgown, pacing up and down in front of the softly crackling fire. A cup was in her hand and she had that sheen in her eyes that Loki knew meant she had been drinking quite a lot. She knew he was there, he could tell by the slight rise of her shoulders, but she did not look at him as she continued to pace.

Determined to deal with this, Loki removed the spells and approached her carefully, “I thought you were going to be in my chambers when I got there.”

Sigyn did not answer. Agitation reeked from her like a stench, she threw back the last of the cup’s contents and then ran her fingertip around the rim in a summoning spell, which refilled the cup. Loki winced, Sigyn could summon wine from anywhere in Asgard if she wished and who knew how much she had already had. Sigyn could not hold her liquor like Loki or Thor, especially when she was tired and worn. Unfortunately, or luckily depending on how one looked at it, Loki was used to dealing with morose, drunk Sigyn. He stepped closer, casting silencing spells and hiding them from Heimdall’s gaze. 

“Sigyn, look at me. Yell at me, but don’t just-”

“Explain it to me,” she whispered, coming to a stop, but not looking at him.

“I’m sorry?”

“Explain how murdering your blood father makes you more of a man?” she said softly, “Explain to me how this act was your best way to avoid war?” She turned to look at him, and her eyes were soft with unshed tears, “Explain to me how you can be the man I love, and commit such a terrible act.”

Loki reached out on reflex to brush away a tear that had escaped her eyelashes, and was relieved that she did not pull away. With his other hand he took the cup from her and set it aside, never breaking eye contact.

“I knew if I could get Laufey to make a big enough mistake, Asgard could swoop in and declare their anger at Thor’s actions null and void. They had to do something just as bad as Thor did, to allow me to even the playing field. But I knew that Laufey would never agree to any sort of attempt to make peace. He was just waiting for an excuse to make war, and Thor and I gave him one. I determined that if Laufey were removed from the situation, I could have a chance to fix things. So I made it happen.”

Sigyn did not reply at once. The shadows cast by the flames danced over her almost impassive face and Loki wanted to take her hand, but knew it would be unwelcome.

“You… arranged for your own birth father to die at your hands,” she uttered finally, “To even be capable of such cold heartedness…”

Loki spread his arms slightly and said quietly, “Tell me I was wrong. Tell me I failed to protect Asgard.”

Sigyn swallowed and lifted her head, “I can’t. That’s the problem.”

Loki frowned in confusion. “I don’t understand.”

Sigyn rubbed at her cheek sluggishly, the alcohol and exhaustion making her burning anger wilt to sulky irritation. “I know that as a monarch you have to sometimes make terrible choices. And I’ve never considered you noble enough to do what’s honourable if it will mean ruin. But… when I heard what you had done…”

Loki sighed and reached out to cup her cheek, “I’ve disappointed you.”

Sigyn swallowed and shook her head, “Not exactly.” She drew in a shaky breath and looked up at him, “Tell me you hated him. Tell me you wanted him dead because you hated him.”

Loki lifted his other hand to push his fingers through her hair, thinking he understood what she wanted, “I… I hated him,” he whispered, “I wanted him dead. I made it happen. Now… I can pretend that nothing has happened. I can act like I never found out about this truth. I want to be a good king Sigyn, I swear to you.”

Sigyn leaned into his hands, “So you killed him because it was the best political action, although extreme, but also because you hated him.”

Loki nodded. Sigyn sighed and swayed forward to rest against him. Loki caught her and held her close,

“You did what was best for Asgard, and allowed your heart to guide you in hate, proving you have one. I can live with that.”

“Are you sure?” Loki asked softly. Sigyn nodded against his shoulder.

“Yes. Call me selfish, call me a fool, but I don’t care. I can live with it, if it means I don’t have to give you up. You acted as a king, and you have heart that can be hurt. I cannot find fault with either of these things. And that’s not something I like about myself right now.”

Loki felt a tension that had been there for a lot longer than he would admit melt away. He was not exactly forgiven, but she was not angry anymore. He wrapped his arms around her and held her tight. Sigyn’s fingers were digging into his skin, clinging on and trembling slightly.

“I was furious with you when I heard… and I was dragged around for weeks to be shown off, trapped in that gilded cage you mentioned, every breath monitored, every part of my body given over to cleansing hands, and I am so tired right now Loki. All I wanted to do was go to you… to curl up in your arms and rest for a while, but knowing what you have done… how could I?”

Loki stroked her hair, “I won’t ask you to forget my actions, I don’t expect you to. But you’re exhausted, and I know you hate having to endure those long celebrations-”

“They’d be easier if I weren’t alone,” she mumbled into his night robe. Loki smiled sadly, frustration rising in his belly, but he pushed it down.

“Soon. I promise.” Loki gently pulled her head up so he could kiss her in relief and longing. Pulling away he said, “I made my peace with Heimdall.”

“Mmmm… good. How?”

“I told him the truth… some of it anyway. Enough for him to not chop my head off.”

Sigyn sighed, lips twitching. Loki gently tugged at her,

“Come to bed, you need to rest.”

“Loki…” she warned.

“I don’t ask you to forget, but just set it all aside for tonight, and allow me to care for you.”

Sigyn gave no more protests and slipped her arms around Loki’s neck when he hooked his arm under her knees so he could carry her to the bed. He lay down next to her, embraced her, and started running his fingers through her hair, soothing her to sleep.

“Loki…” she murmured, inhaling deeply.

“Sigyn?”

“…never mind.”

Sigyn slipped away to sleep and Loki soon followed. For the first time in almost three months, he slept through the night.

**~*~**

In the morning they dined together with Frigga in the private dining room of the King. Sigyn did not eat much, she just pushed her food around on her plate. Loki tried not to watch her too much, lest Frigga suspect anything. His mother was very keen eyed about that sort of thing.

“How are your parents?” Frigga asked in the tense silence, this time seeking a real answer and not propaganda that the rest of Asgard had to hear. 

Sigyn pulled an expression of mild irritation, “No better, no worse than they ever are. Mother still lives in her mansion in Thrymheim, Father still lives in the palace, and I go between them.”

“It must be difficult having parents so at odds.”

Sigyn shrugged, “I am used to it. They separated the day I was born and have remained so ever since.”

Frigga touched Sigyn’s hand gently in comfort. “I have said before, and I reiterate to you now, know that you will always be welcomed here as a daughter to myself and Odin.”

Sigyn smiled faintly, glancing at Loki who nodded, then looked back at Frigga. “Thank you. Such kindness is very much appreciated.”

“And you must keep me company before you go. My son is so occupied I barely see him anymore. I would be glad of the company.” Frigga threw Loki a smile. Loki sighed,

“I see you every morning at breakfast. You saw less of me when I was Prince.”

Frigga’s expression tightened slightly, and a tense silence fell over the room. Loki grimaced and rubbed at his forehead. He had a headache brewing behind his eyes and he wanted to get out of the claustrophobic environment of the Palace for a few hours. He also wanted to talk to Sigyn further about what they were going to do about the issues between them. Loki had not imagined his marriage would be put under a strain from these actions, at least not so much that he could not kiss and apologise it away. He should have known better.

“I’m thinking of going out riding. Princess, would you like to come with me?” he asked, throwing caution aside. Honestly, so they would be alone, no one in their right minds would think that they would do anything untoward, with all the protectiveness of Vanaheim around Sigyn, and all the rumours about Loki’s own preferences because of his supposed shyness. If there was one man who could be trusted with Sigyn, it was Loki.

Sigyn looked at him, then said,

“Of course.”

“If you wish, I can have Sleipnir saddled for you.”

That got him a tiny smile, “I would like that.”

Loki nodded and gestured to a nearby servant, “Kali, tell the stables I want Sleipnir readied for the princess, and my own horse Glaeggi readied for myself. We will be going out riding.”

“You should take Sverrir with you, and his wife.” said Frigga, “I’m sure they would love to go.”

Loki swore in his head, and tried to think of a way to refuse politely. Sigyn beat him to it.

“Actually My Lady, I would rather not have any company besides the King. I have been surrounded by people for weeks, and I would much appreciate a moment of relative solitude.” Sigyn smiled at her pleadingly and Frigga patted her hand.

“Of course, I understand.” She looked at Loki in a mock-stern manner. “My son, take good care of her, or we’ll have all of Vanaheim at our door.”

Sigyn’s closed her eyes and sagged a little, as if the very words were a weight upon her shoulders. Loki nodded,

“Of course.”

**~*~**

Sleipnir was hopping from hoof to hoof with impatience as they approached, and he whinnied in greeting as Sigyn petted his muzzle. Loki stroked the forehead of Glaeggi as he glanced around expectantly and smirked when he spotted a small blonde head.

“Princess, would you like to meet my stalker?”

Sigyn frowned at him in confusion, and Loki called out, “Thundi! Come and meet the Princess.”

Thundi, who had been hiding around the corner of the stables, slowly emerged from the shadows, approaching slowly, twisting the hem of his tunic in his hands. His brown eyes were huge as he stared up at Loki and Sigyn.

“Princess Sigyn, may I present Thundi, he’s the son of two of the palace servants. Thundi, this is Sigyn, Crown Princess of Vanaheim.”

Thundi did not move for a moment, then bowed so sharply he nearly toppled over. “Princess!” he said loudly, straightening up again. Sigyn’s tired face lit up and she laughed softly,

“Sir Thundi,” she greeted, sweeping into a deep curtsy to him, smiling mischievously as Thundi blushed. “How do you know the king?”

“… he caught me under his table.”

“He was exploring,” Loki explained, petting Glaeggi when he started getting impatient.

“Ah… we have a great explorer before us.” Sigyn nodded, sagely, “What have you discovered Sir Thundi?”

“A cat has had kittens in the larder,” Thundi said excitedly.

“Really? How many kittens?”

“Six!”

“That’s a lot for one cat-mother.”

“I bring her milk,” Thundi said, “So she won’t get hungry.”

Sigyn’s smile took on a endeared, slightly pained edge and Loki almost touched her back to make sure she was all right, but she crouched down to Thundi again and said,

“You’ll have to show me the kittens when we get back. Will you show me?”

Thundi nodded, grinning at her. Loki reached out and ruffled the boy’s hair, saying,

“We shall be back in a while Thundi, attend to your duties until then.”

“Yes my king!” Thundi bowed again, throwing his head forward. Amused at the child, the two quickly mounted the beasts.

“Where to?” Loki asked her. Sigyn considered for a moment.

“The Barri Grove.”

Loki nodded without giving away his pleasure at the choice. The Grove was a reclusive place, with beautiful views, but hard to find without experience.

“Very well, let’s go.”

They nudged their horses into a trot and set off through the city. The palace of Asgard, Gladsheim, sat in the middle of the city, surrounded by the houses of the nobles and courtiers of the realm. The capital city was usually simply called Asgard, but its real name was Idavoll, after the land it was built on. Few bothered to remember this, since Asgard itself was grand enough. They went west, past Forseti and Vor’s house, Glitnir, then past the Vingolf, where the Asynjur would gather for certain festival rites that could only be presided over by women. Not even Loki, the king, was allowed into that house.

The city gave way immediately to a forest at the border, which climbed the mountains that surrounded the back of the city, while the front was surrounded by water. The biggest mountain was Himinbjorg, who gave his name to the range. Although it could not be seen, the Bifrost cut under the whole city to be embedded in the mountains for stability. The Bifrost was made of Air, Fire and Water, but the volatile elements needed the sheer might and strength of Earth to stay woven and functioning.

Loki’s mind turned over all these facts as his eyes fell on each piece, reminding himself of what surrounded him. It had been weeks since he had been out of the confines of the Palace, longer since he had been in this forest. It felt good to be riding again, and he was able to simply pass by everyone who recognised and bowed to him and Sigyn as they cantered by. This he had dealt with since he was young, so it was familiar and not exasperating. Still, it was a relief to reach the forest and start ascending the mountain, heading for the grove. Sleipnir pulled ahead of Glaeggi, and Sigyn galloped ahead of him, throwing a mild smirk at him as Loki kicked Glaeggi to catch up. Glaeggi would never match Sleipnir, but he gave it his best. From behind Loki could see Sigyn’s long hair unravelling from the twist she had pulled it all into to keep it out of the way. It would catch and pull in the forest, so Loki cast a simple spell to weave the hair back together.

They reached Barri Grove and dismounted, tying their horses to a tree as they sat down under a huge ash tree, from which could be seen the whole city, with the Bifrost glittering in the sunlight. Loki admired his city and reached out to take Sigyn’s hand. To his relief, she allowed it.

“Do you think this is how Heimdall sometimes feels?” he asked her, for lack of anything better to say. “When he looks out across the universe?”

“Maybe… I cannot imagine how his mind perceives so much so well.” she replied, voice soft. She sounded sad and Loki looked at her, concerned when he saw the impassive expression on her face.

“I have really hurt you with my actions, haven’t I?”

“Yes, you have.” she agreed, “But it is not just that.”

“Then what?”

Sigyn sighed and pushed her flyaway bits of hair away. “I’m just so tired of being unable to be a married woman in public. I’m tired of people looking at me with such expectations of perfection, when I have betrayed such expectations when we lay together that first night and ever since. During the rituals, all those people talking about how good and wonderful I am, and they have no idea at all what I am. And I feel guilty for the betrayal of their trust.”

Loki lifted her hand to his lips, kissing it softly and then holding it to his chest. “Tell me truthfully, would you rather we had just been honest from the start?”

“If we had been we would have been kept apart. My people would never allow me to marry a second son, even the son of a King. And… I wonder if Odin would have permitted us to marry, if he feared what children we might bear.” Sigyn shifted, sliding along the bark to lean against him, resting her head on his shoulder and Loki relished the closeness of her, turning so his nose was in her hair. “I don’t regret our relationship, I cherish it, even when you are a fool, or you are cruel, because I know there is so much more to you than that. But I… I don’t think I can keep this lie up anymore. I am afraid…” She trailed off and wiped at her face, Loki put his arms around her and held her close.

“What are you afraid of?”

Sigyn sniffed, and then started to cry, twisting in his grip so she could hide her face in his chest. Loki stroked her hair and held her tight, knowing no words would ease her distress. Eventually, Sigyn had cried herself out and she shifted so she was curled up against him with her head in his lap. Loki played with her hair, just giving her comfort as he waited for her to talk.

“Heimdall knowing reminds me of how severe our actions have been,” Sigyn murmured, “When we are alone in your room, hidden away, I can pretend none of it matters. But it does. We… I have betrayed my people’s faith in me, I’ve been doing it for centuries, and I kept doing it because while you were prince and I was princess, it felt like nothing needed to change.”

Her hand curled around his knee and held on, “But now I feel the weight of our marriage pulling at me, and I do not know why you being king has made it that way.”

Loki wrapped a lock of her hair around his finger, “Sigyn, you are exhausted, you probably barely slept these past days, making sure you did everything absolutely perfect, knowing you. You need to rest, I’m sure you won’t be as burdened then.”

“Do you not feel guilty for what we have done?”

“… sometimes a little,” Loki admitted, “But my joy in having you as my lover and wife has always outweighed that guilt for not telling my mother, you know she would be devastated if she found out we had kept this from her.”

“… so what now?”

Loki pondered for a moment, as a bird flew over their heads. “I can’t just come out and say I want a wife and Queen, people will think I’ve gone mad.”

“So maybe you need someone else to suggest it.”

“My mother is filling the role, but she cannot be everything required of a Queen, it simply would not be appropriate. And I know she would love me to be married and start giving her grandchildren. What do your parents want?”

“My parents want me to continue to please the people. My people want only the best marriage for me. I need to marry a great king or a first born prince of a mighty realm. Any less and they would throw a fit.”

“Hmmm…”

They were quiet for a while, Loki’s fingers starting to gently stroke her brow, which was making Sigyn sleepy. Her voice was barely a murmur when she spoke again.

“You need to flirt.”

“… I’m sorry?” Loki looked down at her, certain he had misheard her. Sigyn’s eyes were closed, hands tucked under her head on his thigh, she was seconds from sleep, but she still answered him.

“You need to flirt with the ladies of the court, start making them notice you. They’ll start talking to their brothers and fathers, who will asked the courtiers about your marriage, which they will bring to you. Then you can make the actual declaration of intention to marry.”

“Sigyn, it’s one thing to discuss the bed-skills of the maids in the palace as an amusement for ourselves, but this…”

“You can do it with ease, just think of it as a game.”

“And you’ll be fine with that?”

“If it ends this mess we got ourselves in, absolutely.”

“The court will push for me to marry one of the daughters of Asgard. You need to have a word with my mother.”

“Mmmm, I was just thinking the same. I’ll tell her how much I long for a husband to share a bed with –at the risk of sounding callous, Odin’s inaccessibility is probably filling her with grief. She will be more… sympathetic to a woman needing a man.”

Loki nodded, the thought had occurred to him as well. “A queen is a stabilising thing, she is the one to provide an heir, but also to help keep the passions of the king channelled into the right places.”

“In other words, my duty will be to keep you from doing anything stupid.”

“Exactly.” Loki chuckled, stroking her cheek with his thumb.

“The usual tale then.”

“Absolutely.”

They were quiet for a while, and Loki’s hand drifted down to rub at her belly, half imagining the day when she would be carrying a child of theirs inside her. It could be within the year if they played this right.

“Loki.”

“I thought you were asleep.”

“Only half. Can you make an agreement with me?”

Loki furrowed his brow, “Go on.”

“You and I will not attempt to have a child… until we have dealt with your other children in whatever manner is most befitting.”

Loki was silent, stunned for a moment. Then he took her hand and kissed it.

“I don’t deserve you.”

Sigyn sighed. “For all our lies, for all our games, for all our intelligence and power, we deserve only each other.”

Loki gave a sardonic smile, hidden behind her hand as he held it to his face.

“Well, let us be grateful for that.” 


	21. Frigga's Affection, Sigyn's Despair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frigga spends some time with Sigyn and Sigyn struggles with her guilt at the long deception.

When Frigga had become Queen of Asgard, she had left behind her home in Vanaheim, and committed herself to being the best Lady of the Aesir she could be. This had meant adhering to the customs of Asgard and not to her own. It had been difficult at times, especially when it came to how to raise her sons. When Thor had been born, Frigga had held him to her breast and smiled into his little red face, well aware that once he was old enough to walk, he would be Odin’s son, not hers. Frigga had hoped with all her heart that a daughter would follow Thor, but unfortunately Thor had been the only fruit of her body.

Then Odin had brought Loki into her arms, and although she would never dare to call Loki anything closer to a daughter than Thor, Frigga could not deny that Loki had filled that desire. He had learned his first spells on her knee, and had always come running to her to show her his newest skill in the art when he was a boy. Odin had been disapproving, concerned that Loki was isolating himself from the other children around him by his fascination for seiðr, but Frigga saw no reason not to encourage Loki’s natural talent. Even as a babe it had been clear he was meant to wield seiðr, his shapeshifting attested to that.

In Vanaheim, seiðr was seen as a gift for both genders, although it was more common for women to use than men, and it was something Frigga missed among so many other small things about her own people and culture.

There were some things she thought that Asgard did better than Vanaheim.

How it raised its royal children was definitely one of those things.

When her sons were growing up Frigga had encouraged them to play with any children that they met, noble or common, and although she made sure they attended lessons, she always ensured they had time to be boys. She let them climb trees, explore the gardens, play rough-and-tumble games, and made sure they were loved. Any Asgardian who saw Thor and Loki as children saw no difference between them and their own children.

Vanaheim was different. Sigyn had been a desperately wanted child, even more so once Thor had been born. A Royal Heir to match a Royal Heir, to secure the future of Vanaheim as free and independent from Asgard, something that many Vanir feared would be lost someday. So when Sigyn was born, only months after Loki’s birth, Vanaheim had celebrated for weeks. Not even Asgard or Alfheim could rival Vanaheim when it celebrated. King Njordr and Queen Skadi must have breathed a sigh of great relief when Sigyn took her first breath, because they finally had no reason to remain together as a couple.

Sigyn was loved, that would never be doubted, but from the time she was a baby she had been placed in the care of the Svana and the Ey, nine women who ran her life. They ran her household, organised her lessons in politics, geography, seiðr and history, carried her everywhere when she was a toddler so it was a miracle she learned to walk at all, taught her etiquette, artwork, dancing, singing, everything that she would need to be a perfect princess in public. The first time Frigga had seen Sigyn she was six years old, with perfect diction and poise and all Frigga had wanted was for Thor and Loki to grab her and drag her into a muddy puddle and let her have some fun.

Even now, when she was fully grown, Frigga still saw the way she had been so carefully crafted by the Svana and Ey that it made her want to embrace the woman and tell her she was allowed to be less than perfect. Sipping at her wine as she watched Sigyn sitting by the window painting with painfully detailed touches of a brush, Frigga still saw the small, stoic girl that Thor had tickled until she was breathless and Loki had babbled excitedly about seiðr with. Her boys had done wonders for Sigyn’s demeanour.  

After their ride out, Loki had to attend to the running of the realm, and Frigga, sensing Sigyn’s exhaustion, invited her to spend the afternoon relaxing in her private house, Fensalir. Odin had built this house for her centuries ago, so she could raise Thor and Loki somewhat away from the palace while they were very small. It was Frigga’s place of solitude and peace that she offered to any who needed the same. Gerd was a regular visitor.

Frigga sat in her favourite couch, a gift from Loki, which he called a ‘fainting couch’ for some reason, with a book of tales Thor had given her as a gift, open in her lap. Sigyn was on the other side of the room, sighing as she set her brush down, leaning back in the chair she sat in and letting her head fall back. Frigga smiled at her in amusement at the unattractive slouch.

“It’s a difficult thing to be royal sometimes, isn’t it?”

“It’s difficult to be anything.” Sigyn replied with a heavy sigh. “No matter what you are, you imagine it must be so much easier to be something else.”

“I would not go that far.”

Sigyn lifted her head and looked at her, “What are you reading your highness?”

“A collection of poems.”

“Romance?”

“A mixture of that and playful roguishness.” Frigga gave a sad smile, “I’ve found myself reading many poems of love lately.”

“Of course, understandable, given your loss.”

Frigga nodded, “It’s been so long since I felt fear of losing Odin completely. So long since he went to war.”

“Peace has held well,” said Sigyn playing with the material of her skirt. “Something I am sure everyone is very grateful for.”

“You would think so,” said Frigga with a shake of her head, “Yet is it not a desire for battle and war that caused my son to be banished?”

“I would not know,” Sigyn said with a shrug, “I know only what I have been told by the king. He was very careful not to elaborate upon Prince Thor’s banishment, only saying that Odin had sent him to learn some sort of lesson to make him a greater king.”

“Loki is very good at making things sound as you would want them to be,” Frigga said with a chuckle. Sigyn gave a small smile and nodded,

“Is that not a useful skill in a diplomat or king?”

“Oh yes, it is. It’s a pity my son sometimes uses to deceive and manipulate people for his own amusement.” Frigga watched Sigyn’s reaction carefully. The princess smiled again, saying nothing and turned back to her painting. Frigga watched as she coated the bristles with black paint and brought it to the easel. Frigga closed her book and regarded the younger woman across from her.

“Have your parents said anything about Thor’s banishment to you?” she asked finally. Sigyn’s hand stilled, but she did not look at Frigga.

“They are saddened for you,” she demurred. Frigga hid a smile at the side step of the obvious topic.

“And what about the intentions your parents had with myself and Odin about you and my son being betrothed? Have they made any mention of that?”

Sigyn shrugged, but Frigga could sense her surprise and alarm, “It was never made official, we were never legally betrothed. I suppose in my parents eyes that means I am free to be married to someone else.”

“Indeed.” Frigga inhaled, tapping her book against the open palm of her hand. “I suppose this means that soon you shall be plagued by suitors from the Nine Realms.”

Vanaheim was not Asgard, but it was a powerful realm in its own right, with many powers and attributes that would make it very, very tempting to all.

Sigyn gave a very unprincess-like snort. “Do you really imagine the people around me back home would permit it? As far as my realm, and my parents are concerned, there are only a few men who are worthy enough to even look at me with amorous intentions.”

Frigga sighed, shaking her head at her own people. It was one thing to love her so much they wanted what was best, but they demanded such high standards that they were almost impossible. Then again, Frigga doubted anyone could agree on what kind of match they wanted, especially without knowing what kind of queen Sigyn would be.

“You are permitted to look for a husband yourself.”

“Yes, with the Svana watching my every move and chasing away anyone with the slightest appeal… who might just wish to be with me because he loved me.” Sigyn asked, “Can you think of a man who would look at me and not see all the wealth and power marrying me would bring him?” She pulled at her hair and slumped in her seat, “My lady… I do not wish to be like my parents.”

Frigga nodded in understanding. “I’m sure you will not suffer the same fate. You were born to be loved Sigyn.”

“Mmmm…” she murmured, staring at her painting, curled fingers pressed against her mouth. Frigga set her book in her lap and studied the younger woman. She had her hair out of the way, her dress was gauzy and soft around her, the sunlight soft around her through the window. Her body was twisted in the chair so her knees were hooked over the arm of her chair, one hand against her face, the other hanging loosely. If anyone were to walk into this room, Sigyn would immediately shift into a more dignified, regal pose but Frigga had always made a point of keeping things informal around the girl, letting her see she could be relaxed in private at least.

In something of a cause and effect, Frigga had cared for Sigyn when she had visited over the centuries because she wanted to bond well with the girl who would probably marry her eldest son, and the more she had, the more she had wanted Sigyn and Thor to marry, if only to give Sigyn a chance to break from the obsessive ritualization of Vanaheim’s royalty. From the start Frigga had been in favour of a Vanirian match for Thor, both out of loyalty to her home realm, and because she knew the two realms needed a renewal of their bonds and friendships. Things were too decayed and frayed between them now, it would be too easy for Alfheim or worse Nidavellir or Svartálfaheim to step in and make a great truce with Vanaheim and Asgard would lose its position as dominant in the Nine Realms. Frigga knew that would be a disaster, because if Asgard lost its place, then any and all bad feelings that had brewed towards the realm would bubble over and they could be beset by any and all enemies.

So Frigga the Mother and Frigga the Queen had been determined to bring about the marriage between Vanaheim and Asgard. Yet, she had always had a reservation in the matching of Thor and Sigyn, and as such she had never pushed them together as much as she probably ought to have. For however ideal their marriage would be for the realms, Thor and Sigyn were not suited to one another as lovers and spouses. There had been so many attempts to forge an official betrothal between Thor and Sigyn, but it had never worked out. At first it had been because they were far too young to even be considered, then Queen Skadi had voiced objections over an Aesir match. There had always been a reason for one or the other to hold off on an official betrothal, not least of which was the fact that Thor did not ever ask for Sigyn’s hand, as had been expected of him. He had been too interested in travelling around and finding adventure.  

Still watching the princess, Frigga thought about Loki; she thought about how he had avoided women for years after Angrboda, yet had been happy to spend time with the princess whenever she visited. She thought about the bright smiles they had shared only yesterday when Sigyn had arrived, the way Loki’s eyes lit up at the sight of her. She thought about how, every now and then, she considered that perhaps Loki would be a better match for Sigyn, they were both skilled with seiðr and they loved reading and learning. Yet, Loki was but the second son, and the land of Vanaheim refused to accept such a ‘low’ creature to marry their beloved princess. Vanaheim could be just as snobby as Asgard, just in a different manner. There were only two men in the Nine Realms who would have done for their tastes.

Thor, the future king of Asgard, or Berach, the eldest son of Aetril, Queen of the Ljósálfar.

Now though, now things were different. Loki was the king of Asgard, and as much as it pained Frigga to think it, she knew he would be for a long time. Thor was her beloved son, but he had much to learn. Odin was her dearest love, but he had pushed himself too hard, and now must pay the price for it. And Loki… Loki was trying so hard to be a good king, he was trying so hard to make up for his blood. He thought he could hide it, but Frigga saw the way he flinched every time someone mentioned the Frost Giants.

They had not even touched upon the fact that Loki had killed Laufey. Frigga wanted to, but she was worried it would be too much strain upon Loki, who sometimes seemed to be teetering on the edge of uncontrollable fury and madness.

“Is something wrong My Lady?” Sigyn asked, and Frigga realised she had been staring.

“No… just a thought occurred.”

Sigyn did not ask what the thought was, merely sighed and rose to her feet. “I think I’d rather read instead. This painting is making me heartsick.”

Frigga nodded, “Of course my dear.”

Sigyn left the room to get a book from the library, and Frigga went to see what she had painted. It was half done, a mix of colour and black sketching line, of a family of wolves, mother, father and six puppies. The mother was lying on her side, so the puppies could suckle, and the father was standing next to her, protective and strong. Frigga had been much younger than Sigyn was now when she had given birth to Thor, and seeing the sheer number of puppies, she could actually feel the longing coming from the painting itself.

Frigga tilted her head. The wolf bitch was not yet painted, but the male was jet black and, although it was unfinished, it was clear he had sharp eyes.

Frigga looked at the door Sigyn had vacated and smiled faintly to herself. It seemed Vanaheim might not know what it wanted for her, but she clearly did.

It had always saddened her that Sigyn and Loki’s obvious affection –perhaps even love –had been ignored and set aside for a more impressive match in Thor. Sometimes Frigga had considered encouraging Loki to pursue Sigyn actively, instead of just being content with friendship, but fear of his heart being broken if he fell in love with her only for her to marry Thor had stayed her. But things were different now, and perhaps things would work themselves out if she was only patient. Frigga decided to keep her council for the moment, and see what happened.

**~*~**

Sigyn loved Frigga’s home, it was warm and welcoming and there were only as many guards as needed to be, unlike in the palace where they were everywhere as a sign of might and status. It meant Sigyn could pick up her skirts and run through the corridors if she felt like it, without feeling Svana Ein and Svana Þrír’s disapproving gazes burning into her back. It meant she could be alone without having to barricade herself in her bedroom and insisting she was just sleeping. There were no Ey following at her heels to join in her activities, whether they liked them or not, no reminders that she had to be somewhere at the set time, even if they were the same time and place they had always been for centuries. For once she was alone.

The relatively small library in Frigga’s home was mostly devoted to the subjects the queen favoured, such as romantic tales, craft books, child rearing, and seiðr but there was also history, geography and philosophy. Sigyn ran her fingertips over the spines of the books wondering if Frigga had looked at her painting yet, and if perhaps she had been too heavy handed with her ‘suggestive’ work. She did not like trying to manipulate Frigga, the woman had always been nothing but kind to her, to the point that Sigyn had been very jealous of Thor and Loki for having such a wonderful mother.

Pulling down a book on Mimir’s Philosophical Thoughts on the Laws of Seiðr, Sigyn wondered just how long it would take her and Loki to make a public marriage. Would they even know how to behave during courtship? They had been so careful for centuries about never letting anyone suspect a thing about them it was a reflex now. What if they made a mistake and exposed themselves too soon? Her parents would be livid, her realm would never forgive her, they might demand Loki’s head for the betrayal. As for the Svana and the Ey… they would be disgraced for failing in their duties.

Sigyn sat down the floor in the sunlight pouring through a window and hugged the book to her chest, feeling miserable. The Svana and Ey were only ever doing their duty to her, but she hated their duties, sometimes hated them with such a passion she wanted to grab them and tear their hair out, throw them to the ground and kick them to death just to get rid of them. She never would, but the desire could be frighteningly strong at times when she wanted to be left alone and they would not hear her. Nothing in her life was private as far as they were concerned, they were meant to be an extension of her body and mind in some way. Sigyn was 1,047 years old, but she was still bathed like a babe, dressed like a doll and had to follow the same rituals every single day that she had since she was a child. Vanaheim believed that harmony came from good maintenance of order. It was up to Sigyn to keep the order by doing the same thing every day in her daily rituals, including bathing and eating. 

Sometimes the only thing that kept her sane was Loki. He was unpredictable, he enjoyed bouts of chaos, and ever since Sigyn had kissed him the first time, she had loved the rush of excitement it had given her. Even the effort of keeping it all a secret was a rush of pleasure most of the time, breaking the monotony of her daily life back home. The first time she and Loki had lain together fully, Sigyn had had to be extremely clever about avoiding a bath for three days until the resultant swelling faded away. When the Ey washed her, there was no part of her body they did not attend to, and they would have noticed instantly that something was wrong. If Sigyn ever got pregnant they would notice before she did, she knew it. The greatest challenge was the times she had snuck away for days at a time to join Loki on Midgard. She sometimes worried Svana Ein knew more than she should, but surely Svana Ein would do something to stop it if she really knew anything. The woman was a control freak, everything had to be just as she wished.

Svana Ein was the dominate feature of Sigyn’s life. She was her matron, the one who organised everything around her, dictated her life with a stern efficiency. She was sharp eyed and quick to pull Sigyn away from anything that might challenge her authority.

Sigyn’s hate for her rigid life had probably pushed her into Loki’s arms as much as her blossoming love. Of all the things she could do to go against her parents, her realm and her guardians, pursuing a secret relationship with a second son was probably the worst. Her body was not hers to give to anyone by law, it was Vanaheim’s. Sigyn had not cared, she had wanted Loki for as long as she could, and as time had passed and Thor made no move to propose to her, she found herself falling further and further into love until it was all that mattered to her. Now she would rather throw herself off the Bifrost than marry anyone else.

Sigyn touched her cheek, realising she was crying again and sighed, not bothering to hold the tears back. If she held them back again, it would only come out at the wrong moment. This was the wrong time to be having one of her black phases, but she could not help when they came upon her, and she had much to mourn. With Loki now King of Asgard, there was no way for him to get away so they could explore Midgard together. He did not even have time to spend a day with her. Would it always be so when they were publicly married? Sigyn dreaded the idea, but she knew this lie had to end soon, or they would be caught.

Still, she tried to amuse herself, she wondered what Asgard’s men would think when they found out that as her husband, Loki would have to make love to her on the altar of the temple in Vanaheim, and for every time he brought her to climax the altar, itself a very powerful magical object, would absorb the energy she produced and flood Vanaheim with it in a very special fertility spell that had not happened since before Sigyn was born. The more pleasure Loki gave her and received for himself, the more powerful the spell would be.

No pig-headed Aesir would think of her husband as being ergi by the time they were done.

Soft foot-falls made her jump and she went to cloak herself in a spell, but then she recognised Loki’s footsteps and relaxed, wiping at her face.

“Here you are,” Loki said with a shade of relief, “Mother was getting worried.”

“Oh… I lost track of time.” Sigyn shrugged, pulling herself to her feet. Loki deftly took the book from her hand and looked at the title. He raised an eyebrow,

“I’m sure this isn’t what distracted you.”

Sigyn sighed and let Loki wave the book away back to its proper place. “No, it wasn’t.”

Loki narrowed his eyes at her and Sigyn felt the urge to step closer and bury her face in his chest, but remained where she stood.

“You’re still troubled by Laufey, aren’t you?” said Loki shortly. Sigyn looked away and sighed,

“No… not really. I’ve made my feelings as clear as I can considering they are contradicting themselves.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

Sigyn sighed and walked to the nearest table, lifting herself up to perch on it, “I was just thinking about the mess we’ve made of things… that I’ve made of things.”

“The Svana and Ey if we were discovered,” Loki concluded easily.

“And everyone else who would be hurt to learn the truth.” Sigyn gripped the edge of the table, which creaked a little under her grasp. “I want to be Queen of Asgard Loki!”

Loki blinked, looking as startled as she felt at her own outburst. Swallowing, Sigyn said, “I mean… I want to be Queen because then I’ll be rid of the Svana and Ey, surely.”

“You know they are bound to serve you until you are Queen of _Vanaheim_ , not Asgard.”

“Well maybe when I’m Queen of Asgard, my parents will retire like Odin planned to for Thor, and then-”

Loki shook his head, “If I know your parents, that will never happen.”

A burst of pure rage blossomed in Sigyn’s stomach and she barked, “So I am to be stuck with them forever? Trapped in the same rituals until I go mad? No! I won’t have it!”

Loki grabbed her shoulders and pulled her off the table, so she collided against his body. At once she clung on to him and hid her face against his chest. Loki rubbed her back in soothing circles and Sigyn felt her body slowly unwinding, sagging against him.

“I’m sorry.” she mumbled, “I don’t mean to be so emotional.”

“I hardly think I get to comment on being emotional.” Loki chuckled. Sigyn smiled against his chest,

“I thought you had to run the realm for the rest of the day.”

“There wasn’t much to do today, I left it to the lendmenn, so I could attend to the most royal of guests.” Loki curled his fingers around her jaw and made her look up. He pressed his lips to hers and Sigyn shivered with pleasure as she opened her mouth to him. Breaking the kiss, Loki pushed them back until Sigyn hit the table, eyes fixed on hers. Sigyn licked her lips as she looked up at him, wanting to forget her guilt, her anger, and all the politics even for a few moments. Loki reached up and ran his fingers through her hair, sending tingles through her scalp, then swooped down and bit her lip hard.

“Ow!” Sigyn yelped, her hand snapping up to grab Loki’s hair and pull him against her. They half toppled onto the table, Sigyn’s legs wrapping around his hips as she devoured his mouth. Loki scrambled to catch them both, his hands bracing themselves on the table’s surface. Sigyn held him tight, like a limpet with her arms and legs around his body. She arched her back, trying to press her body fully against his,

“Sigyn…” Loki muttered against her lips, hands sneaking under her skirt. Sigyn groaned softly in encouragement.

“Sigyn? Loki?”

Sigyn’s eyes popped open as Frigga’s voice floated through the library. Loki straightened up, taking her with him because she was still wrapped around him. “Where are you?”

Sigyn fumbled to dislodge herself from Loki and they leapt behind a shelf. Loki grabbed a book and opened it while Sigyn pinched at her lower lip with her fingers, trying to look thoughtful and give a reason why her lips were swollen.

“We- we’re over here mother!” Loki called, managing to sound more or less calm, leaning against the shelves. Frigga rounded the corner and smiled at them.

“What’s taking you so long? I was growing worried.”

Sigyn sighed, not even Frigga would risk something happening to her for the sake of giving her a semblance of privacy.

“The princess was engrossed in a book, and then we began a conversation. In fact,” Loki closed the book in his hand and set it back, “I’ve had an idea.”

Sigyn gave him a baffled look as Loki offered his arm to her and said, “Fancy a game mother?” with a wicked grin on his face.


	22. The Archery Competition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Women of Asgard show their prowess.

“An Archery Competition?” Sverrir stared as the servants set up the targets and gathered the bows and arrows in the garden. “Between women?”

Loki’s grin widened. “Why not? Women in Vanaheim are trained in archery for hunting excursions, just like they are in Asgard. Why not let the ladies show us what they can do? Don’t you get sick of nothing but men battling with swords in the Hólmgangustadr? I’d much rather watch this.”

Sverrir gave him a curious look, “I notice you’ve invited only the younger ladies to play, aside from your mother.”

“Of course, my mother is an excellent archer. The rest are just to be admired.” Loki gave him a wry smile.

“You invited my wife,” Sverrir said carefully, humour in his eyes.

“Your wife is as lovely as any of them, and I’m sure she can shoot just as well.” Loki grinned as he looked over the gathering women. They were all younger, the daughters of the lendmenn, or wives of those children.

There was Ilmr, Sverrir’s wife, tall, slim, with dark hair permanently pulled up and away from her face in a plain ponytail. Loki had never seen her without a nervous furrow between her eyes. She was standing very close to her sister in law, the red-headed Ragnalfr Kvasidóttir, who was a healer in the palace. Loki had once nursed a crush on her, but so had every boy at the time, and quite a few since. It was the soft warmth of her face… and the curves of her body that did it.

Pretty little Nanna Dellingsdóttir was getting her golden hair braided with green ribbons by her mother Nat. Delling was with them, talking with his equally golden haired eldest son Dag and nibbling on a sandwich. Compared to the other women at the event, Nanna was a girl, all sugar and light.

Forseti and Tyr stood with their wives, watching as Forseti’s twin girls Aesa and Helga tested their bows, while Thyra Tysdóttir checked the line of her arrows. Across the field, under a tree, Sigyn was talking with Freyr’s girls, Frída, the newlywed, and Kolla, the cold and biting bitch. Both were absolutely beautiful and both had inherited their father’s bad temper.

Finally there were Frigga’s five handmaidens, the three brunnettes, sturdy Fulla, giddy Lofn, considerate Gna, the blonde and shy Hlin, and the redhead and competitive Gefion. They were closer to Nanna’s age, and served Frigga faithfully. Loki saw no reason why they couldn’t be a part of the competition, despite the disapproval of some of the noble mothers. The handmaidens were from the less opulent parts of Asgard, a way of giving those not of noble blood the chance to rise in status. Frigga doted on them, and Loki thought they were adorable. Thor had eyed them for a while, uncertain if they were possible bed-mates, or just background noise to his life, before deciding they were little girls that needed his protecting and consideration.

It amused Loki greatly to see the young men of the court, like Sverrir, or Dag and Reifer looking rather disconcerted. Usually it was the men showing off and the women watching. Loki much preferred watching women in action. Even Sif had attracted his attention when she was fighting her best.

Drinks and food were set under a canopy in the garden, and Loki could see Thundi hiding under the table, watching the goings on while his mother served the nobles. Loki caught his gaze and grinned, winking as Thundi waved at him excitedly. He really ought to find the following child annoying, but when he had been smaller he had been that child following Thor around.

“Majesty, we’re ready,” said Abjörn.

“Excellent.” Loki turned to the women and spread his arms, “Ladies, we are ready to begin. It’s all very simple. You’ll take it in turns of three to fire an arrow at the target, just one per round. The lady that hits furthest from the centre will be disqualified, and each round the worst shot will be out until we have our winner. The lady with the best shot shall win.”

“What will we gain if we win?” asked Frigga with some amusement.

“You may ask me for one gift, within reason, and I shall grant it.”

Nanna squeaked with excitement. Loki gestured to the ribbon that had been laid on the grass for a marker.

“Abjörn give the ladies their numbers, and we’ll begin.”

As the women were given their numbers, Loki sat down at the table, picking up a cup of mead. Tyr, his wife Sjofn and his son Tveggi, Forseti and his son Glóa, Delling, Nat and Dag, Kvasir, his wife Hallfrídr and grandchildren Rind and Áki, and Freyr and Freyja sat down with him. Loki reached under the table with a hand, and tugged Thundi out from under it.

“Sit with Áki and Rind, Thundi. You’ll see better,” he said. Thundi nodded and crawled over to sit next to Áki, who greeted him cheerfully. Loki smiled fondly at them before looking at the people around the table, “I’m so glad you could all attend this little game, there aren’t enough games in Asgard.”

“There’s the annual warriors competition,” said Glóa with a bright grin. Loki shook his head,

“Oh yes, that boring old thing.”

“It’s tradition your majesty,” said Tyr through clenched teeth. Loki tilted his head back to smirk at him,

“And traditions grow boring, unless you find new ways to keep them interesting.”

Tyr visibly trembled with outrage, he was a many-times over champion of the tournament. Luckily for him, Sverrir’s voice cut across him,

“Your majesty, may I introduce someone to you?”

Loki looked around to see Sverrir standing with a man Loki had never seen before. He was slim, similarly built to Loki himself, but shorter, with pale eyes and hair. His face was a perfect image of serenity that instantly caught Loki’s attention. Loki waved his hand in permission as he drank a mouthful of mead.

“This is Mýrkjartan, he’s an old friend of mine and my wife,” said Sverrir.

“Majesty,” said Mýrkjartan, resting a hand on his breast as he bowed, “It is an honour.”

“Welcome to court Mýrkjartan, and what do you do?” asked Loki, looking past him to see Aesa, Lofn and Kolla lining up along the ribbon.

“I am a gardener,” said Mýrkjartan. Loki raised an eyebrow, instantly not believing him, but getting a sense he wasn’t meant to.

“Our garden could use some work, maybe you’d be interested in some work,” said Dag quickly. Mýrkjartan gave a serene smile,

“I never turn down work, my lendr maðr.”

Dag flushed, “Oh, I’m not a lendr maðr.”

“Not yet,” said Loki, hiding a smirk behind his hand. Only the removal of a lendr maðr already there would free up a spot to make another man one. Dag’s eyes widened and Delling’s face paled. “Come and sit with us Mýrkjartan, enjoy the competition.”

Mýrkjartan bowed again and sat down on the grass next to the children. Loki grinned.    

One by one the women lined up their arrows and released them. Aesa did well, hitting half way in, but Lofn and Kolla only hit the outer edges. Ragnalfr, Helga and Gefion went next, and did well enough. Loki applauded each contestant, catching Sigyn’s eye and grinning expectantly. Sigyn’s eyes lit up with challenge.

As the next three women went, Dag gave a sigh,

“I feel idle sitting here and not taking part.”

Loki glanced at him, “Then you are not really looking.” He glanced back and his eyes roamed over Fulla’s long body. “Look at her, soft and strong at the same time, beautiful with a deadly weapon in her hands… it’s an amazing sight Dag. Can you not see?”

Dag glanced at Fulla as she pulled her string back to her chin, the stance of a bow put her on display, not exaggerated, but still lovely. The sunlight fell on her warm skin and on her dark hair, making it shine. Loki thought she was beautiful, desirable and as he glanced at the other men his own age, for he would never speak in earshot of the noblewomen’s fathers, he could see them taking on a new appreciation for the competition. He did glare at them when his mother took her turn, but none of them were stupid enough to look at My Lady the King’s Mother like that. Frigga, as Loki had expected, hit within the centre ring. Everyone applauded with genuine delight.

Nanna did not even hit the target and looked close to tears of embarrassment as she hurried back to her mother’s arms. Then Sigyn’s turn came. Loki thoroughly enjoyed watching her notch the arrow and pull back the string. Her strong body, usually hidden under the soft dresses she wore in Asgard, was defined as she aimed the arrow and let it loose. Her mark was just as good as Frigga’s.

Ragnalfr, Gefion and Hlin all hit very well and soon it became clear that the competition was between them, Frigga and Sigyn. The other ladies all fell away and joined the spectators, who became avidly fixed upon the game as it got closer and closer. Gefion fell away with a cry of outrage, “I hate loosing!”, then Ragnalfr. Loki knew Hlin, a small, shy girl, would be next.

“I forgot My Lady the King’s Mother was so good,” Dag admitted quietly as Frigga took her next shot, hitting the centre. “We should have a hunt soon, bring the ladies with us, they must get bored to tears with spinning and weaving.”

“I doubt the princess is ever bored,” said Tveggi with a chuckle, “All that constant attention, the ridiculous fanfare about her, she probably hasn’t had a boring day in her life.”

Loki watched Sigyn line up her shot and twitched as he thought about how boredom was one of Sigyn’s constant companions. When they were in their fifth century, Sigyn had gotten so bored with her life she had started drinking heavily, just for something to do. Luckily Loki had figured out by then how to cross between realms without being spotted. Trips to Midgard had done wonders for her, and now she rarely drank too much. Last night had been a bad example.

Sigyn matched Frigga’s shot for dead centre, and to Loki’s surprise, so did Hlin who ducked her head, hiding behind a long fringe as she hurried away from the marker. It was a draw.

They went again, and all three hit perfectly again. The excitement increased, but the competitors looked frustrated.

“Perhaps a tie-breaker?” said Frigga, playing with the feathers at the end of her arrow. “A new target, harder than before.”

Loki thought for a moment, then grinned. He snapped his fingers, mostly for show, and the centre target lifted into the air and began to float through the air from side to side.

“An excellent idea majesty,” said Sigyn with a faint smile. Loki grinned.

Another round began and Frigga hit the edge of the centre ring.

“Oh Ymir damn it!” she sighed. Loki let out a startled laugh, it was rare his mother swore at all.

Sigyn drew back her arrow and aimed just ahead of the target, letting it go. With a resounding _‘thwack’_ it hit the centre. Loki tapped his fist against his thigh in subtle triumph and imagined what Sigyn might ask from him in front of everyone. Hlin sighed, but took her place. Loki relaxed back, even if Hlin hit the centre, Sigyn’s arrow was in the way. Sigyn had won.

Hlin took a deep breath, characteristically determined to do a perfect job no matter what, and then released the arrow. There was a whoosh, and then a crackling, and Loki gasped in absolute shock to see Hlin’s arrow go right through Sigyn’s and pierce the centre. Sigyn’s last arrow hung like four dead leaves curling against a wall.

Hlin’s expression lit up with pure delight as she turned to face the stunned spectators.

“I won!” she cried bouncing on the balls of her feet. It was the first time Loki had ever heard her speak above a timid whisper. 

Loki forced himself to recover first and he applauded loudly, quickly followed by the others as they recovered from their surprise.

“That was remarkable Hlin,” Frigga cried, looking proud of her handmaid. Hlin curtsied deeply, blushing crimson. Sigyn looked childishly put out for a few minutes before finally shrugging her loss off and congratulating Hlin.

“Well my lady,” Loki said, getting to his feet. “You have won your prize. Name it, and it will be yours.”

Hlin’s eyes widened in and she blushed harder, hiding behind her hair, shyness creeping over her face and she covered her mouth with her hands, shaking her head.

“Oh I really don’t mind…”

“You’ll never know if you don’t ask for it,” said Sigyn softly, glancing at Loki and the two shared a split second of nostalgia. Loki nodded,

“Exactly. Come Hlin, ask me.”

Eyes on the ground and almost shaking, Hlin lowered her hands and said softly, “Could… could I have… I mean, if it’s permissible to ask…”

“Go on Hlin! Ask!” Sigyn laughed, un-plaiting her hair and running her fingers through it.

“Um, yes princess, I mean, majesty, could… could I have a ride on Sleipnir some time?” Hlin asked in barely a whisper.

Loki’s eyebrows rose in surprise, and then he smiled and bowed slightly,

“Of course. I’ll take you myself when I have the time.”

Hlin beamed, hands clapping together as she gasped, “Oh, thank you, thank you majesty! I am so honoured! Thank you!”

Loki raised a hand, “Calm down, it’s no trouble Hlin.”

Hlin nodded, calming down, but her eyes were wide and bright. Loki thought she was adorable. Actually he thought all five of his mother’s latest handmaids were exhaustingly adorable. Hlin was the shyest, and spoke the least. Lofn was the most hyperactive of them, always running around like she was constantly ingesting far too much sugar. 

“Perhaps next time you ought to invite Queen Aetril to the competition.” said Frigga with a chuckle, picking up a cup of mead. Sigyn did the same and drained it rather quickly. Loki made a note of watching her carefully. He could sense the dark mood still shifting underneath the surface and did not want to see her embarrass herself.

“Loki?” Frigga prompted when he did not answer at once. Loki blinked and looked around,

“Oh! Yes, that could be fun,” he said with a smile.

“It would certainly be interesting. Alfheim is said to have the best archers in the Nine Realms,” said Sigyn, getting her cup refilled.

“Bah! None of them can best an Asgardian champion like Hlin here,” said Dag with a grin. Hlin blushed crimson and covered her smile with her hand. Loki chuckled, trailing of as a thought occurred to him,

“That’s actually not a bad idea.” he said softly.

“Majesty?” Sverrir looked at him in concern. Loki shook his head,

“It’s nothing… yet. But perhaps something to consider for the future.” Loki grinned as he thought about it. “Have any of you ever heard of the Olympics?”

Sigyn gave a faint start but only Loki noticed it. Everyone else looked confused.

“No majesty, we have not.”

“Remind me to tell you all about it someday.” said Loki with a grin. “It… could be an inspiration.”

Sigyn shook her head at him when he grinned at her, his hand itching to take hers. He held it still.

Soon. Soon he could hold her hand in public.

**~*~**

Sigyn had to return to Vanaheim only an hour after the competition. Loki escorted her to the Bifrost. Heimdall bowed to them as they dismounted, and led them into the observatory. Feeling bold, Loki put his arm around her waist and held her against him.

“You’ll start moving forward with our plans tonight, won’t you?” she asked him as Heimdall lifted his sword to start the Bifrost.

“Of course. I want this all over and done with as soon as can be.”

“As do I. But don’t be afraid of enjoying yourself. It’ll be good for you, show all those idiots how women really like to be charmed.”

Loki chuckled, “I’ll pretend I’m scouting for someone to join us, shall I?

Sigyn grinned wickedly, “Oh please do, and write to me about which girl you liked the most, so I know who to picture with us if I get lonely.”

Loki gulped and grinned, “Oh I love you so much!”

 Sigyn smiled at him, “And I love you. Still, at least I can do this now.” She leaned up and kissed him on the lips in front of Heimdall, holding his face tenderly in her hands. Loki pulled her closer, relishing in the freedom of it. Still, he could feel Heimdall watching them and it was like hot needles pricking at his skin, so he pulled away sooner than he would have liked.

“I will prove myself to you, I swear,” he murmured against her lips.

Sigyn smiled again, her hands sliding down to rest on his chest as she replied, “I know you will. And I will be in much better form next time I see you.”

“I’ll be glad for it,” Loki said, stroking her hair. The prickling was getting stronger and he pulled away from her properly. Sigyn sighed and turned to Heimdall, who bowed to her,

“Good Heimdall. Look after my husband.”

“Yes your highness.”

Sigyn beamed at them both and blew them a kiss as she was sucked into the Bifrost. “Farewell boys!”

Loki burst out laughing at the uncharacteristic call. Heimdall drew his sword out of the mechanics of the Bifrost and fixed him with a strange expression. Loki smirked, “Oh, lighten up Heimdall!”

He walked away before Heimdall could answer, swinging himself onto Sleipnir’s back and kicking him into a gallop. He had a job to do.

That evening, there was a dinner with the court and their families. It had been traditional to have one every month. Loki had increased it to every week. He wanted the younger Asgardians to be exposed to court more, so far he still only had Sverrir, and he wanted to see what the nobility had to offer, simply because there was easier access to them. It was a generally light-hearted affair, with song and dance. Exactly what Loki needed if he was to start getting the idea of marriage in these peoples' heads. He put on a show of being restless, reluctant to sit in his seat, finally rising up and striding over to Sverrir to talk to him. Sverrir and his wife Ilmr were talking to Forseti’s daughters. Perfect.

“Majesty, you appear to be full of energy today,” Sverrir said with a smile. Loki grinned,

“I must admit, I am! I’m not at all sure what to do about it.” He looked out at the dance floor where several couples were dancing around and tilted his head as if fascinated. “That looks like fun.”

“Dancing majesty?” Ilmr asked shyly, “I have never seen you do so.”

“That does not mean I cannot. I learned as a boy, the same as any prince. I’ve always been so busy watching Thor’s drinking I did not have the time.” Loki looked at the two other women. “Would one of you be so kind as to help me make sure I still know what I’m doing?”

The women blushed and Aesa, the elder one, nodded. Loki offered her his hand and kissed hers when she gave it. Aesa giggled and blushed even pinker as Loki led her onto the dance floor.

“I do hope you’ll forgive me if I misremember some steps,” said Loki, flooding his voice with sincerity and a shy hint of flirtation.

“Do not worry your majesty, I will forgive you,” said Aesa, looking surprised at her own daring. Loki relaxed and reminded himself that, once upon a time, he had adored the company of women as much as Thor still did. Then he had been shattered and rebuilt and fallen in love. Shaking away the memories, he put his arm around her back and the other held her hand, starting to lead her around the floor. After a full circuit, Aesa laughed, “Why, your majesty, you were far too modest about your skills.”

“Ah, I suppose some things are just never forgotten once learned.” Loki span her under his arm and pulled her back, hiding a grin when she gave a soft ‘oh!’ of surprise, but held on even tighter. He had forgotten how much fun it could be to flirt. “I think your father is trying to burn a hole in my head.” he murmured to Aesa, who glanced around and saw he was right.

“Father has… strong opinions,” she said diplomatically.

“About me, or just in general?” Loki gave her an easy grin as he swept her into a low lift, earning himself another squeak of surprise.

“Both!” Aesa replied once her feet were back on the ground. “Not that he not loyal to you!” she added, realising too late she may have said the wrong thing.

“Oh I know that, fear not.” Loki reassured her. They did another circuit around the floor, Loki humming along as he held Aesa closer, enjoying the feel of her pressed against him. Aesa stared up at his face curiously,

“Your majesty, did you enjoy the Archery Competition?”

“I did, it’s a shame we don’t have more of them.”

“More Archery Competitions?”

“Archery, Hunting, any sports women participate in. Why should you not compete as men do?”

Aesa shrugged, “My mother says women don’t need to compete with each other the way men do.”

Loki grinned, “Oh really? So your sister isn’t watching us with barely concealed jealousy right now?”

Aesa peered over Loki’s shoulder, grinning as she saw Helga’s face. Loki smirked, bringing his face closer to hers,

“Everyone competes, my lady. It’s up to you to decide how you play the game, it’s up to you to decide if you want to win.”

Aesa blushed at his proximity and giggled, “I suppose that’s true.”

Loki gave Aesa a final spinning lift and then stepped back to bow to her as the dance ended. “Aesa Forsetadóttir, it was a pleasure.” For good measure, he kissed her hand before walking away. He returned to his seat and ignored his mother’s attempts to query him. His eyes followed various women around the room, openly admiring them with a smile.

After a while, he approached another lady of the court, Nanna, and danced with her. She was practically trembling in his arms with excitement and disbelief as she chattered in his ear about… something. All Loki caught was something about her dress. Thankfully, the dance was a faster paced one, which allowed him to lift her and spin her many, many times. It kept her happy and nearly broke his ear drums. Still it was worthwhile, because Aesa looked slightly disappointed, but every father in the room was clearly starting to scheme. Loki could easily read their minds.

_So King Loki does have an interest in women… perhaps I could encourage him to notice my daughter._

It felt oddly satisfying showing that he could talk to women flirtatiously again, that he could dance with them, and entertain them. After so many years of avoiding the topic altogether to avoid awkward questions and uncomfortable situations to keep his oaths of fidelity, he was enjoying this game. He did not particularly want to hurt the feelings of any of these women, but it was quite a boost to his ego to prove to himself and to the court that he could charm them. Soon, no one would call him ergi ever again.

As he sat down again, he noticed Lady Gerd, Freyr’s wife, sitting at her place, staring into her cup like she wanted to hide in it. By the way Freyr’s arm was angled his hand was on her knee as he spoke with his son Líhnbjörn. Loki narrowed his eyes and flicked his fingers. Líhnbjörn’s hand twitched and he knocked his father’s wine into Freyr’s lap. Freyr leapt to his feet with an outraged yell.

“Idiot!”

Everyone looked around at his swear, falling quiet. Loki looked at him with a mild expression,

“Good Freyr, go and see yourself cleaned up.”

“Yes majesty.” said Freyr, red-faced with humiliation. “Gerd-”

“Lady Gerd, come and sit with me while your husband gets himself clean,” said Loki, gesturing to the empty chair next to him. 

Gerd’s eyes were wide with fright as she looked at him, and Loki’s hand curled into a fist as he thought about what had put that fear in her.

“Yes my king,” Gerd whispered, moving from her seat to join Loki, while Freyr stormed out of the hall with his sister. Gerd watched him and Loki could read the apprehension in her eyes. He reached out and touched her hand.

“My Lady,”

Gerd nearly leapt out of her skin and Loki moved his hand to her wrist, trying to soothe her. He bent his neck to try and get her to look at him.

“My Lady, look at me please.”

Gerd swallowed, screwing up her courage and looking up into Loki’s eyes. Loki gave her a gentle smile and rubbed his hand over her arm slightly, knowing she would flinch if he squeezed.

“My Lady, is all well with you?”

Gerd’s grey eyes flickered with a thousand thoughts in a moment, but all she did was give a weak smile and say,

“All is well majesty, thank you.”

Loki sighed and glanced down at her wrist, where his rubbing of her sleeve had caused a bruise to be exposed. Gerd’s body went even more ridged and she inhaled shakily. Loki looked at the bruises and then up at her face again,

“If you ever change your answer, know that you can come to me and I will help in any way I can.”

Gerd trembled slightly and nodded in understanding.

“I thank you majesty.”

Nodding, Loki lifted his hand from her arm and took her hand, lifting it to his lips and pressing a gentle kiss to it, keeping his eyes fixed on hers. Once he was sure she understood him clearly, he straightened up and said, “How are your children?”

Gerd started telling him about her five children, and the way her face lit up as she talked made him look at his own mother, talking to Kvasir. He then thought about his own children. Sigyn had made him swear they would have no children without helping those he already had. What could be done about them though, he had no idea.

Freyr returned, still scowling and made a beeline for his wife. Loki smiled at him in welcome,

“Ah, Freyr, Lady Gerd was just telling me that your eldest daughter has just gotten married.”

“Yes your majesty, she has,” said Freyr, looking between Loki and Gerd.

“It is a fortunate thing to find someone to love and create children with,” said Loki wistfully, “Not everyone is so lucky.”

Freyr looked confused as he glanced at his wife. Loki drained his cup of wine and rose to his feet, “I feel like another dance, good evening Freyr, Lady Gerd.”

As Loki danced with Lofn, one of his mother’s handmaid, Loki wondered what the court would think if he introduced some Midgardian music and dance to Asgard. The Argentine tango was very like a dance from Vanaheim, and he had never seen it performed in these halls. Maybe he could change that too.

“Something amuses you majesty?” Lofn asked. Loki dipped her and then twirled her around,

“I was just thinking it might be fun to bring some new troubadours into the court. New music and dances would be a welcome change, would they not?”

“Oh I would love that!” Lofn gushed, “It would be so much fun to learn new dances.”

“Do you think others would be as interested?” Loki asked her.

“Of course!”

“Well, could you find out what they might like for me? Or if they have heard of any new music and dance they’ve become fond of?” Loki grinned at her as she smiled up at him.

“You want me to investigate for you?”

“Absolutely. I want my court to be happy, and I think we could all do with some new dances and songs to enjoy. If all we do is play the old things, how are we ever to move forward?”

“That’s true,” said Lofn thoughtfully.

“So, you’ll inform me about what you learn?” Loki asked with a smile.

“Of course majesty.” Lofn beamed at him, and Loki wondered if maybe he was being a little too inviting towards her. If so, he would deal with it when it became a problem.

Lofn was an exhausting dance partner, full of energy and smiles. It was infectious and Loki danced with her three times, fast and elaborate dances that left them both breathless with laughter. With Sigyn’s reassurance that she trusted him, he felt free to enjoy himself. He was the king of Asgard, the only Odinson left, he had more power and freedom than anyone else in the Nine Realms. It was dizzying and liberating to let himself enjoy it as he threw Lofn into the air to her delighted shrieks.

Eventually he was danced out and threw himself into his golden seat and drained his mug.

“It’s been so long since I’ve seen you so happy,” said Frigga fondly as she offered him a cake. Loki narrowed his eyes at her, irked at her words,

“Should I not be? Is there some reason I cannot enjoy myself? Have I not done enough to merit some fun?”

Frigga’s smile faltered, “Of course you have. I’m just so glad to see you smile so much. You don’t smile enough.”

“I have few reasons to smile these past years mother,” said Loki with a vicious grin. “So you’ll have to forgive me if I wasn’t in a mood to play the doting second son to father and adoring younger brother to Thor.”

“Loki,” Frigga started, but Loki cut across her, feeling his anger and the drink mix in his head.

“No, maybe it is unseemly for me to be so happy when Thor is holed up with mortals and Odin sleeps alone. Maybe I should remain sober, and sombre, and miserable. After all, it is by my shadow that Thor always shone so brightly!”

Frigga’s mouth fell open, “Loki!”

Loki growled and snapped his mouth shut, fuming for a moment, before saying, “The mead has loosened my spiteful tongue. I shall remove it from your presence.”

He walked away, draining his mead, feeling ugly and nasty and wondering why his happiness had slipped away so suddenly with a simple comment from his mother. Maybe he still hadn’t forgiven her for her lies, or maybe it had just been infuriating for her to comment on his mood now, when there was no one else to hold her attention, like Thor or Odin. Loki didn’t like the idea that he was that insecure or childish, he was a prince, a king, a great seiðrmaðr, he ought to be beyond such things.

Sverrir, Mýrkjartan, Dag, Glóa, and Reifer Hodesson were sitting together at a long table. Loki stalked over and sat next to Sverrir.

“Gentlemen, what are we discussing?”

They all jumped at his arrival, then Sverrir said,

“We were just discussing how different things feel today.”

Loki arched an eyebrow as he drew another cup to him, “Oh?”

They nodded, Dag saying, “If I am honest, I’ve not spent much time in Valaskjálf these past few decades because I felt… useless.”

“Nothing changes here, at least not until now,” said Glóa.

“As much as I like your brother, none of us expected anything new from him,” said Reifer with an awkward shrug. “He’s too like Odin.”

Loki rested his chin in his hand, regarding them all carefully, “Really?”

They were quiet for a moment, then Dag licked his lips before saying, “Today… you did things differently. And it was fun once we realised no one would say anything against you-”

“Not to my face anyway.”

Dag gave a nervous smile, “Everything was… starting to look the same, people, the whole realm… it was all… the same. But you, you’re different your majesty, and I think that… I think that might be good.”

Loki said nothing, turning the words over in his head as Sverrir smiled,

“Like the princess said, change is very good.”

Loki nodded, looking into his mug, feeling a strange warmth expanding in his chest. “There are those who would disagree.”

“Like your lendmenn?” asked Mýrkjartan, cutting a pomegranate into pieces. Loki gave him a sharp look.

“That is not your business, gardener,” said Dag sharply.

“He’s not wrong,” said Sverrir darkly. “There are those who would keep your majesty in a rut until Thor returns or Odin awakens. They’re more afraid of you than of Jötunheim.”

“But why?” asked Reifer. Sverrir smirked,

“Because his majesty has a mind of his own and actually sees the strengths of other cultures. And those old skeletons don’t have a clue how to deal with that.”

“Flattery is definitely your greatest talent Sverrir,” said Loki wryly, eyes fixed on Mýrkjartan. There was something about him that held Loki’s attention. He couldn’t be wholly Aesir, was he a Vanir?

“Is it flattery when it’s true? I’ve sat in council with you, your majesty, I’ve seen you battle with words against Tyr and Forseti. They’re being stubborn asses, fighting for things they don’t even care about, but because you want to change them, they’ll argue the point.”

“My father just fears too much change will upset the people,” said Glóa uneasily.

“What does Forseti know of the people outside this golden male world of pomp and ceremony?” demanded Sverrir. “When was the last time the court went on a tour of the realm, met with the people? It’s just sat here in its finery and has no idea what’s really going on out there.”

Loki chuckled, “My, my Sverrir, you’ve certainly got quite the opinion there.”

Sverrir flushed, “Forgive me your majesty, I know you couldn’t have gone on a tour, you needed things to settle. It just angers me when Forseti or Tyr say the people won’t like something, as if they are the voice of the people.”

“Is that not the point of the lendmenn?” asked Mýrkjartan, lining up his fruit pieces.

“Maybe once, but that doesn’t make it true,” said Sverrir heatedly.

“Your father’s a lend maðr, why doesn’t he do something about that?” asked Reifer shortly.

“I’m not saying my father is any better, but you were the ones who were saying how unhappy you were these past few decades.”

“So,” Loki cut in lazily, “If I am understanding you right, if I were to introduce some radical changes to the realm… you’d all support me without issue?”

“I trust your judgement far more than your brother’s!” cried Sverrir. Loki delicately reached out and pushed Sverrir’s cup away from him.

“You’ve had enough my friend.”

Sverrir burped and blinked hard, “… you may be right your majesty.”

Loki chuckled, “What of the rest of you?”

Dag, Reifer and Glóa looked at each other and then nodded, Dag saying, “We are for you and change, your majesty.”

Loki smiled and picked up his cup, his eyes slipping to Mýrkjartan, who inclined his head as if agreeing with them. Loki brought the cup to his lips, saying quietly,

“I’ll keep that in mind.” 


	23. Thor's Birthday, Loki's Bad Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor's not feeling too excited for his birthday this year, and Loki has his first real set back as king.

Three months.

Thor stared at the date. Had it really been three months since he had been banished? Ninety three days since this had all started. Ninety three very, very long days.

Thor sat back and sighed, staring at the ceiling.

Since their arrival, his friends had been doing their best to adapt and help out. They had all managed to get jobs, which was at least something to ease Erik’s dislike for the situation. Thor and Volstagg had acquired jobs in picking crops. Hogun was able to become a cook in the local diner when their usual cook went on maternity leave, while Fandral had got work in a men’s clothing store. Sif had been given a job in the tavern.

There had been adjustment requirements for them all. For one, Volstagg did not understand at first why he could not have a couple of ales before his job. Hogun had not been told he could not put metal in the microwave, which resulted in him having to purchase a new one for the diner. Fandral could sell anything but he had not quite learned yet how to behave around married women. In Asgard’s court, flirtation was the most basic ways of speaking to women for single men, regardless of their married state. Not the same in Midgard. Fandral had also run into problems with his boss, who was a woman, and had warned him about his ‘handsyness’. Fandral meant no harm by it, but Jane and Darcy had to give him and the others a rather long lecture about harassment and correct treatment of women.

Sif had been irate about the idea of making her a tavern wench, but on her first day her employer explained what to do if she was given any trouble and made it clear ‘harassment’ would not be allowed, and she had been mollified somewhat. She was still unhappy, but at least no one had been hurt yet.

Thor found his own employment far more difficult than he had expected. He was just a mortal man now, and while he was stronger than average, it did not mean he was able to deal with the sheer amount of energy his work required as well as he would have as an Aesir, the burning sun actually drained his energy, and his skin was starting to brown. This was all much, much harder than he or his friends could have imagined. They had tried to play it as an adventure, but very quickly it was becoming clear it was no such thing. Everything was harder, everything was different, from the language, to the customs, to the clothing. It had been novel at first, but now it was all becoming an irritant.

Thor wanted to go home. He missed everything and everyone. He missed his bedchambers, he missed his clothing, he missed having servants fetch him things, he missed the gardens of Asgard, and the golden walls of the palace. He missed his mother, his father, his brother –especially his brother. He would have been thrilled to hear Loki snark at him for something stupid he had done, he would have crushed him into a hug if Loki tricked him into drinking something laced with hot spice.

Thor sniffed and rubbed at his chin. He knew he was sulking, but he could not help it, his naming day was tomorrow, and he would not be celebrating it in Asgard as he had always done, but here, on Earth. His friends had told Jane and Darcy about it and Darcy insisted on throwing a ‘wicked-ass soirée’ for him, which Jane had explained meant a party, which Erik then explained meant a kind of feast.

Thor had not the heart to tell them that he was in no mood.

Ever since Loki’s letter, Thor had spent as much time as he could at the site of his hammer. The strange set up that he had battled his way through to reach it was long gone, with Jane’s equipment having been returned only two days after the letter had arrived. The son of Coul had explained that he no longer considered Jane’s research a threat and added that S.H.I.E.L.D. wished to encourage her work. Jane was wary and excited by this turn of events, and ever since, she, Erik and Darcy had worked tirelessly to figure out about the Bifrost which neither Thor nor his friends could adequately explain. Sif had tried, but she had avoided any teachings of seiðr as a child and so knew almost as little as the men about its workings. 

Mjölnir seemed oddly sad resting in the ground with no one to lift her. Thor had tried to think of what he needed to do to gain her back. He had thought noble thoughts, but nothing happened, he had tried to clear his mind of all but Asgard’s safety, but nothing happened. What did his father want of him?

Thor went to bed the night before his naming day in low spirits. Thanks to the money Loki had given them, they had been able to rent a small apartment with three bedrooms, and their shared wages were helping them keep it. Thor shared his bedroom with Fandral, Hogun and Volstagg shared another, while Sif slept alone. At first they had intended to give Thor the single room, but he refused, insisting Sif take it. It was less out of noble intentions and much more that he felt comforted hearing Fandral sleeping next to him in the other bed.

When they had been little more than children, they had shared a room, and Loki had been afraid of the dark, so Thor had to regularly get into his bed to protect him. After his five year disappearance, that had stopped entirely, but Loki had always come on the eve of his naming day to share a private celebration.

On no other night but the night before his naming day, Loki would come into his bedchambers like when they were young, with sweets and cakes for them to eat while they talked until dawn. Thor loved the way Loki got the best sweets, and thought about all the soft cakes he would not be getting tonight. Yet his mind drifted away from the food, and back to Loki. How sometimes he would nod off on Thor’s bed, curled up like a cat, his breathing soft and lulling Thor to sleep. Once Thor had awoken on his naming day with a tiny black kitten on his chest, pawing at his nose to rouse him; he had been baffled until he saw the green eyes and realised it was Loki.

Thor rolled onto his side, facing the wall of his room, arms around his stomach as he thought about how sometimes Loki had been too weary to walk, after a battle or a long day and had turned into that kitten and stolen a lift on Thor’s shoulders. Not that anyone but Thor was allowed to know that. Loki detested the idea of being considered ‘cute’ by anyone and had scratched Thor’s face when he had tried. Thor had retaliated by dropping him in a bucket of water. Loki’s revenge hadn’t been pretty. 

Thor’s stomach felt like it had been twisted with a knife, and he found himself cursing Odin. Why did the old fool have to go to sleep, so his brother could not visit him, and his stupid, treasonous friends betrayed his brother and got themselves banished. 

Guilt immediately smacked Thor in the chest. He was repugnantly ungrateful to his friends for their presence, but they were no real help, and their comforti was waning. Thor did not want them, he wanted his brother. He wanted Loki at his shoulder, helping him think things through, he wanted to fight with Loki, to laugh with Loki, where else was Loki meant to be but at his side?

Except… Loki was king now, and had avoided war without much harm. Thor might have found that somewhat disappointing at first, because he would have revelled in the glories of it, but then Erik had invited him to watch the television with him one evening, and a programme had been showing, called Platoon. Thor had expected a kind of Midgardian saga telling, about the glories of war. He was not prepared for the actual showings. When it was over, he had felt rather confused, and unable to express it to a rather kindly Erik.

Thor had been in battle. He had been fighting in defence of Asgard for centuries. He knew war was messy, that it was painful… yet the glory of it surely outweighed that, did it not? Only warriors got to Valhalla, so did not that prove that war was a good thing when fought for good reasons? It was what he had always been taught.

 _‘What good reason did you have to go to Jötunheim?’_ a treacherous little voice whispered in his head.

 _‘I was protecting my home!’_ Thor thought at once.

 _‘Hollow words, false words,’_ hissed the voice. _‘You threw a tantrum, and started a war because of it.’_

_‘No! The Jötnar got into my home, I had every right to deal with it.’_

_‘Even though the Jötnar managed to take nothing. What harm did they really do?’_

_‘They murdered two guards!’_

_‘Since when do you care about that? And you call that murder and your actions… what?’_

_‘I was defending myself!’_

_‘From a taunt worthy of a toddler? What sort of Prince does that make you?’_

Thor covered his ear with his hand, burying the other in his pillow. _‘Leave me be!’_

_‘Why should I leave you be? Do you think those who survived your assault are let be by the memory of you?’_

Thor sat up and clambered out of bed. He felt sick to his stomach and he slipped out of his bedroom to pace in the kitchen. His head was hurting and he wanted his mind to stop whirling. Loki had once told him that his mind liked to whirl. Thor could not imagine how he stomached it. He turned his head to the ceiling and said,

“Loki! Why aren’t you here? Why aren’t you helping me? I need you brother. I need you here!”

Of course there was no answer, but he felt better for speaking, so he spoke some more,

“Are you so busy being a king to a realm that practically runs itself that you cannot spare a thought for me? Not even on this eve? Or have you already forgotten me?”

There was a faint glimmer of green in the corner of his eye, and he whirled around. There, on the table, was a plate of sweets and cakes from Asgard. The very sort Loki would bring him on this night every year. Thor stared at them, and guilt filled his stomach again. He had not meant for Loki to hear him, but then, he had no idea when Loki would be sitting upon Hlidskialf, the High Throne of Asgard, and could see and hear him. He approached the table and saw a note on the plate. He picked it up and opened it.

_‘I never forget anything you ungrateful brat! How can you expect to be king, when you cannot even handle figuring out what makes you worthy of it, in favour of sulking that your baby brother isn’t at your beck and call anymore?’_

Tears pricked at Thor’s eyes as he set the note down and picked up a cake. He bit into it, half expecting it to be full of worms. But no, it was perfect, just the way he liked them. He sat at the table and covered his face with his hands, his stomach aching with misery.

“I’m sorry brother. I miss you so much. Please forgive me. I am a fool… father was right.”

There was no reply this time and Thor sat at the table for the rest of the night, crying occasionally, and nibbling at his cake. It was no fun to have these treats without Loki, but he was grateful for their presence. He thought about his mother, how much this must hurt her, about how Loki had always been her favourite. He thought about his father and how disappointed he had been in Thor’s actions on Jötunheim. By the end of the night he was feeling miserable.

The sun rose and Fandral emerged looking surprised to see Thor at the table. He looked as odd as Thor probably did wearing boxers and a t-shirt.

“Good morrow Thor! A merry naming day to you!”

Thor gave him a weak smile, “Thank you my friend.”

“By the Norns!” Fandral blinked as he spotted the cakes, “Are those from Asgard’s bakery?”

Thor nodded, “Loki sent them to me for my naming day. It… it is something of a tradition for us.”

“That was kind of him.” said Fandral softly, sitting across from him. “You had best hide them from Volstagg, or he’ll devour them in a mouthful.”

“I must confess, they are not as enjoyable without Loki to share them with.”

Fandral nodded in understanding, “Maybe… but somehow I doubt Loki would appreciate you sharing them with us if it was something between the two of you.”

Thor tilted his head in confusion at Fandral who scratched at his goatee. “I’ve given it much thought as of late, and I think we may have missed no small amount of jealousy on Loki’s part.”

“Jealousy?”

“I mean to say that… we did take you from his company a lot… and I don’t think we were always very welcoming to him. He was just so strange, and after he vanished for six years, no one knew what to make of him-” Fandral cut himself off and sighed, “I am trying to say, we possibly caused something of a rift between you two because you are so easy to get along with and Loki… isn’t.”

“If you had said there was a rift between myself and Loki before my banishment I would have said you were imagining things.” Thor pulled a piece of cake from the bulk and rolled it between his fingers. “Yet… now I am not so sure.”

Fandral shifted on his basic seat and said, “Thor… I know you do not believe that Loki allowed the Jötnar into the Weapons Vault, and I do not believe he would do it to commit treason. Yet… I have been wondering if maybe he could have done it for other reasons.”

Thor shook his head, “No, I know Loki could not have done this. I do not wish to speak of this anymore.”

Fandral sighed, nodding, “Of course my friend.”

They were silent for a while, Thor nibbling on his cake, feeling utterly morose. They could hear Sif, Hogun and Volstagg rising, when Sif’s voice called out,

“Thor! You must look outside!”

Thor and Fandral looked at each other before rushing to the window. In the early morning sunlight, a small crowd had gathered around two large animals that were standing outside their apartment building.

“Is that…?” asked Fandral in faint wonder. Thor’s face broke into a huge grin,

“Tanngniost and Tanngrisnir!” he cried, turning and running for the door.

“Thor! Trousers!” called Volstagg, “Let us not repeat what happened last time!”

Thor rushed into his bedroom, grabbed a pair of jeans and scrambled to put them on as he hopped towards the door. He did not get the fly and button done up until he was halfway down the stairs. He burst out onto the street, crying,

“My goats!”

His voice was loud enough to make the small ring of people to spring away in alarm. Thor was oblivious as he rushed to his pets and threw his arms around their bristly necks. Tanngniost bleated with delight as he was embraced. Thor pulled away only enough to pet their necks, their heads, their sides. They were huge beasts, white with small beards and regal horns that had been gilded by their carers. They bore silver collars with Thor’s name etched into them. They had been Thor’s pets for centuries, they pulled his chariot, and when he had had his own Aesir magic, they had fed him.

Tanngrisnir bumped his muzzle against Thor’s head and a rustling made Thor look up. A note was attached to his collar. Thor pulled it off, and opened it as Tanngniost started nibbling at his t-shirt.

_‘Like I said. I never forget anything. If you cannot care for them, I’ll take them back. This is your 1050 th Naming Day. Time to grow up dear brother. Oh! And mother misses you and would wish you a merry year of life.’_

Thor swallowed and quickly stuffed the note in his pocket. If he could not be at home or see if his family, then having his pets with him was the next best thing.

“Wait until the Lady Jane sees you,” he told his pets.

“Odin’s beard!” gasped Volstagg, “How did these creatures get here?”

“My brother is most kind to me.” said Thor softly, smiling as his stomach gave a tug again. “Yes, he is most kind.”

**~*~**

Loki watched Thor show off his goats to Jane Foster and her comrades as he sat on Hlidskialf. A faint smile graced his features as he watched Thor allow the children of the small town come up and pet the creatures.

“Your brother liked his gift?” Frigga asked, breaking his concentration. Loki looked at her and felt the curious eyes of the court upon him. He nodded,

“Very much so. He is delighted to have yet more friends at his side.” Loki tapped his chin thoughtfully, “Perhaps if we send more he will set up a second little Asgard all for himself.”

Frigga smiled, “I’m sure he would love that. Yet it would not be what your father desired of him to do I’m afraid.”

Snide thoughts rolled around Loki’s head about ‘Odin’s wants’ but he said nothing of them. He went to gaze upon Thor for a bit more, just to make sure the idiot did not let the goats run free, when the door burst open and Tyr walked in. He looked troubled as he approached the throne.

“My king.” he bowed to Loki, “I must speak with you urgently. In private.”

Loki sighed, anticipating yet more nonsense from him, “Whatever you have to say, surely the court will hear of it within a minute of it passing your lips. So out with it Lord Tyr.”

Tyr’s eyes flashed, but he did speak, “Do you recall Fasta Gudsteinsdóttir and Hákon Hamrson?”

Loki had to think for a moment before he did, “Oh yes, the young couple expecting a child, who came to me to petition for assistance. They never came back to me after the week. I’d assumed they had gone home, the matter settled.”

Tyr’s throat visibly convulsed. “They thought it was. They concluded they did not want anything to do with each other.”

Loki had to hide a start of surprise. He had been sure that if the two idiots took a little time, things would have worked out.

“When they returned home, the girl was expelled from her home, to avoid the shame of her actions.” Tyr continued in a stony voice, “She was made an out-law, sent into the forest to survive.”

“She was heavily pregnant, they can’t possibly have…” Loki trailed off, sensing there was more.

“They did, majesty. Unfortunately, there are many outlaws in the region they come from, and they happened upon the girl. They raped and killed her, over a month ago.”

Horrified murmurs filtered through the court, but all Loki could hear was the roaring in his own ears.

“She… she is dead?”

Tyr nodded, “Yes my king.”

“But… what about the child? Had she delivered, or…?”

“She had not. The child died within her… if someone had happened upon the body in time the child may have survived… but they did not find out for over a week.”

Frigga grimaced in distaste, but that was all she did, remaining utterly composed. Loki knew he was not doing as well. He was stunned, he was sick, he was speechless. He had been so sure that if the two were given half a chance, they would be able to make the right decision, either for love, or sense, or for their child. Instead they had neglected all three, and their village had cast Fasta out? That was not meant to happen!

“I… see,” said Loki slowly, trying to pull himself together. “That is… tragic.”

“Yes, majesty,” said Tyr carefully. Loki slumped for a second in the throne, then stood up.

“I believe I am done watching Thor for the day,” he said in a clipped voice, striding down the steps and walking towards the door as fast as he dared. He kept walking until he reached his chambers, where he collapsed in his chair, and covered his eyes with his hand. How had he made such a grave error? How had he missed the possibility that this would happen? Why had he been so sure of the fact that the girl’s family would not cast her away? He was a cynic to Thor’s optimist, he always had been, so why had he been so certain of goodness prevailing over all else in this matter?

Loki felt disgusted with himself for his stupidity.

There was a knock at the door.

“Not now,” he called to whoever it was. The door opened anyway, and Loki’s snarled, “I said not now!”

Tyr did not flinch as he approached him. “I know you did, but I feel I must speak with you.”

“I don’t care Tyr, I’ve no patience for your nonsense!” Loki growled, turning away from him.

“And, that, my king is the problem,” said Tyr. He was being annoyingly calm as he stood in the middle of the room. “That is why that girl is dead.”

“Because I refuse to heed your bigotry?” asked Loki incredulously, looking around again.

“Because you think you know everything. You always have.” Tyr replied coolly. “Ever since you were a boy you have been assured of your own intelligence, your own understanding of this world is all you have ever trusted. You think you know everything, so you do not need to heed others words. You do not trust anyone to do anything.”

“I have an entire council of men to assist me in running the kingdom, I think you’ll find I have to put faith in them.”

“You do not. If you could you would have disbanded the council, and attempted to run the kingdom alone. Do you think we are so fooled by you we cannot see you pretending to take us seriously when all the while you sneer at us? You think us old, you think us feeble and lacking in any use.”

Loki glared at him, “Remember who you are talking to Tyr!”

“Right now I speak to the boy who refused to heed my direction because he decided he did not need it.”

“I did not! You were full of nonsense, drivelling about honour and proper conduct, when all it gained me was bruises and further proof that such behaviour is useless when you want to win!”

“You refused to heed the broader usage of honour because you were petty,” Tyr snapped.

It was like being back on the training grounds, with Tyr looming over him and yelling at him for a sneaky assault that had landed Thor on his backside. Loki could not help but feel the childish urge to stamp his foot in sheer frustration. But he would not, he was king now, and he would damn well act like it.

“You call me petty?” he demanded, “You call me petty, when you have been nothing but petty in my presence ever since I sat upon the throne.”

Tyr’s jaw worked for a moment, then he spoke through gritted teeth, “Perhaps I have been petty… yet it does not alter the fact that since you were a boy, you have derided any attempt to teach you honour. You see it as useless, and refuse to acknowledge its value.”

“Because it has none!” Loki snapped.

“It has great value! And as king, you need to recognise it or you will find this kingdom falling to ruin.”

They glowered at each other, then Tyr sighed and seemed to reign his temper in.

“Loki, do you know why that girl died?”

“Her family cast her out. She made foolish choices-”

“No, all of those things did not kill her. It was the men who came upon her who did. And they did so because they were without honour.”

“You equate decency with honour! You do not need to-”

“Loki, allow me to speak, and when I am done, I swear I will let you speak.”

Loki rose to his feet in a fit of temper. “I am not a child you can speak in such a manner to! I am your king!”

Tyr twitched and his hands clenched into fists, “Yes, you are my king. But I would speak to you as a man in this moment, and so I ask you to let me voice my thoughts first, and I swear I will hear yours clearly in return. I will admit my own… conflicts prevented me from hearing you clearly before. I promise I will not be so deaf today.”

Loki narrowed his eyes at him suspiciously, “Why the sudden open-mindedness Tyr?”

Tyr grunted, “Kvasir and I have had words.”

Loki arched an eyebrow at him. Tyr did not elaborate, instead choosing to continue his explanation.

“Honour is not an arbitrary thing. Nor is it a way to ensure that only certain men win battles, which I know is how you have viewed it. Honour is a way of protecting people, a way of ensuring the safety of others, as well as enhancing a man’s name.”

Loki decided to be civil, “Do you think I do not know this? Do you think I do not understand the principles of honour?”

“I think you know the theory, but not the true use. You were raised on sagas and battles of princes, honour is different for you than for a common man. Sometimes honour is the only thing a man has to give him a sense of self-worth, the only thing that promises him a stranger will not kill him upon sight.”

“And what does any of this have to do with Fasta?”

Tyr rubbed at his nose, a habit he had when he was trying to find the right words. “I know you thought you were doing the right thing, by allowing the couple to come to their own conclusions. However, you did not consider the ramifications of breaking with tradition.”

“I thought they would figure it out! I was sure they had enough intelligence to make them see marrying was a better choice, but if it was by force neither would have been happy.”

“Not at first, but eventually they would have either found a compromise or they would have divorced, which would have been an honourable thing. Instead they, and you, rejected honourable practise and condemned that woman to death.”

Loki felt his face heat up with rage. “You’re blaming me for their actions?”

“You should have commanded they marry, it would have been the proper thing to do! You and your brother and all the youths who grew up in this palace have no concept of being a common person. You have been taught that honour is about having your name sung, about winning glorious battles, but that is not the whole of it. Honour protects us, gives us integrity, civility, basic manners and rights! A man who retains his honour is entitled to those rights, but must also give them to all around him.”

“If that is what honour is for, then why did you teach us otherwise?” Loki demanded.

“Because it is the duty of your father to teach you this!” Tyr snapped.

All the air seemed to leave the room, and Loki had to rest his hand on the back of his chair as he felt all the blood leave his face. Tyr pulled his head back slightly, as if realising he had said too much. Loki worked his jaw and said,

“I see. Well… I think I’ve heard enough for today… thank you for the illumination Tyr.”

Loki sank back into his chair, and refused to look up when he heard Tyr remaining where he stood. He stared at the wall and thought of Fasta and her unborn child. It inevitably made him think back to his own children, and his failings as a father. He had barely been more than a child when they were born, but that did not excuse his lack of actions to try and reason with Odin, with himself…

Tyr was still there, so Loki could not indulge in a little wallowing as his hand unconsciously brushed his scar from Fenrir’s birth. He heard Tyr approaching him in a curved line, as if he were a dangerous creature. In Tyr’s mind, he probably was.

Tyr sat down in the chair opposite him, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped together.

“You are new to the throne Loki, no one will remember this incident in a few weeks, not if you learn from it.”

Loki lifted his eyes, “So in a matter of weeks, no one will care that a woman was brutally raped and murdered. How comforting.”

“You know that is true. People don’t remember, they can’t recall every detail that crosses them… except for you.”

Loki stayed silent. Tyr sighed, looking down at the ground, tapping his fingers together for lack of anything else to do. Loki rubbed his thumb and forefinger together, thinking hard. Finally, he said in a low voice,

“So… instead of helping anyone by my rule, I must make sure they place their necks in the yoke of tradition.”

“If it means keeping the realm under control, and having to view it that way to do so, then yes.”

Loki glared at him sullenly, “Why?”

“Tradition helps society function, it is how we built up laws.”

“And what about when the tradition is defunct and no longer works?”

Tyr sat back, eyes flashing, “Who are you to judge that?”

Loki matched his look, “Your king. And a man with a mind of his own.”

“Yes… you’ve always had that.”

“Are you so afraid of a new idea you’ll reject it on principle?” Loki demanded.

“If something is not broken, do not attempt to repair it.”

“What if it’s so old it’s on the verge of falling apart?” Loki growled, “Things change Tyr, new generations move into power, and then what use are the old ways?”

“They are a guide.”

“Or a cage.”

They stared at each other hard for a moment, then Loki shook his head and sat back, “Leave Tyr, I’ve had enough.”

Tyr hesitated, then rose to his feet, bowing at the waist. “My king.”

The door shut with a soft click and Loki covered his eyes with his hand again. He sat in the shadows away from the window and found himself brooding over the fact that although Thor was banished, he was probably much happier than Loki.

Typical.


	24. Elli the Cat

The night air was cool on Loki’s skin as he wandered through the Gardens of Valaskjálf. It was quiet now, almost no one was awake this late. Just what he needed to clear his head after that argument with Tyr. He had toyed with the idea of writing to Sigyn about it, but neither of them handled such tragedy well, and he had no desire to burden her as he was himself.

He could not stop imagining what happened to Fasta, in horrific, graphic detail. Worse in some ways, he could hear her screaming in his head.

Loki groaned and rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his hands.

“Your majesty?”

Loki’s heart nearly broke his sternum as he whirled around. Mýrkjartan raised his hands in surrender, a mild smile on his face.

“Norns you’re quiet!” hissed Loki, glaring at him. “What are you doing in the palace gardens?”

“You gave me permission to help to tend to them,” said Mýrkjartan.

“It’s the middle of the night!”

“And some plants only reveal their secrets at this time.”

Loki narrowed his eyes at the man. Then, quick as a flash, he darted forward, pulling out a dagger and pressing it against Mýrkjartan’s throat. Only to find a dagger at his own in same moment. Loki grinned,

“Gardener my backside! You’re no gardener!”

Mýrkjartan gave a rueful grin, “Oh I am a gardener, your majesty.” He twisted at the waist and Loki found himself held back to chest with the man, dagger at his throat. Mýrkjartan’s voice was soft in his ear, “I just happen to have other skills too.”

Loki smirked ruefully, refusing to react to the knife at his throat, “Does Sverrir know about this one?”

“You know, it’s never come up.”

Loki shrugged as best he could, then closed his eyes and slipped from his grip with seiðr, grabbing him by the neck and pinning him against a nearby tree. He held the wrist of the hand holding the dagger tight, just to be safe. Mýrkjartan went absolutely still, and relaxed his hand, letting the dagger fall to the ground. Loki pressed his hand just enough to hurt.

“Are you going to call me a cheater?” he asked curiously, grinning into Mýrkjartan’s face. Mýrkjartan didn’t so much as grimace.

“Why would I your majesty? It’s a sensible tactic if you can do it.”

Loki felt laughter bubbling up inside him, and pushed it down, leaning forward until he was nose to nose with him.

“So, do you think you can get out of the palace grounds before the einherjar catch you?”

“Yes,” said Mýrkjartan with absolute certainty, “But I would much rather stay.”

“As a gardener?” Loki asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I like gardening,” said Mýrkjartan with a shrug. “And if you wish it, I can perform other services for you.”

“Why would I use you?” demanded Loki, “What use would you be?”

“As you’ve noted, I’m fast, and I’m quiet. That’s useful to you.”

Loki snorted, “You wish to be my assassin?”

“I wish to be useful!” Mýrkjartan snapped. “That is why I came to Asgard. I knew you’d find a use for me, unlike your father, or your brother.”

Loki tilted his head, “You knew I’d have use for someone silent and quick? Should I be worried?”

Mýrkjartan lifted his eyes and looked straight up into Loki’s. “I think a king should always be worried. And I think you’re smart enough to know you can’t learn every secret on your own anymore. You need someone to do it for you.”

Loki inhaled slowly, studying his face carefully. “And you’ll do that?”

“If you’ll have me, your majesty.”

“You talk as if you revere me. No one reveres me. They fear me, hate me, like me sometimes… no one reveres me. Why do you act like you do?”

“Because I fear for Asgard’s continuation and I believe you can save it,” said Mýrkjartan at once. “I believe in Asgard, I believe it deserves to be honoured and respected, but the Nine Realms have changed and you understand that.”

Loki smirked, “You want me to save Asgard? So you see me as a tool.”

“I see you as the one who can be greater than Buri or Odin! I see you as deserving praise that you do not receive.” Mýrkjartan reached up and rested his hand on Loki’s wrist, “Your majesty I see you.”

Loki repressed a shiver, then slowly released Mýrkjartan. He bent down and picked up the dagger.

“You want to prove yourself to me?”

Mýrkjartan nodded. Loki inhaled slowly then held out the dagger,

“Then I have a task for you.”

  
**~*~**   

Kvasir Honirson was worried about his king.

Ever since he and Tyr had had a private conversation a week ago, Loki was clearly troubled. Kvasir knew this because, when he was stressed and troubled, Loki did not sleep, at all. It was easy to tell, because when Loki did not sleep, he left a mess in his wake, especially in the library. Thor left messes when he was happy, usually because he was drunk, but was otherwise very organised, because of his weapons and battle training. People thought Loki should be as fastidious because he was so careful about his appearance, but Loki was not neat at all, especially when it came to books, notes and everything in that area. His mind had its own system, one which only he could follow.

Kvasir had no idea what Loki was looking for exactly. The table Loki always used was heaving under the weight of his work, but when Kvasir and Sverrir tried to make sense of it, they could not see the pattern.

“What is he up to?” Sverrir wondered, his son Áki on his hip as he looked over the countless notes and open books Loki had left behind. Where he was now no one was sure –which was enough to make them all break out into a sweat. Loki had disappeared often as a prince, and usually came back unscathed, but no one could forget the first time it had happened and the damage it had done.

“I don’t know…” Kvasir murmured, scanning a page of a book. “I see texts on laws of Asgard, but over here is a book I am unfamiliar with on Jötunheim.”

“This book is about wielding seiðr.” Sverrir said, jabbing the book with a finger, “But this one is about rituals in Alfheim.”

“Alfheim’s got Light Elves!” Áki said happily, arms around his father’s neck.

“Yes, that’s right.” Sverrir said absently, squeezing his son affectionately as he continued to look at the notes. “Father, should we really be looking through all this? I mean… I doubt Loki will appreciate it.”

“I know, but Loki has not yet learned to fully trust his councillors, and we must try to help him.”

“… by snooping?” Sverrir arched an eyebrow at him. Kvasir threw him a grin.

“If we must. He certainly won’t tell us what has him brooding so much.”

“What’s brooding?” Áki asked.

“When something makes you worried and sad.” Kvasir explained, shrugging and giving up any hope of understanding Loki’s mind today.

“King Loki is sad?” Áki asked, frowning in concern. Sverrir considered his answer for a moment, then said,

“Not exactly, but it is not easy being a king.”

“Especially when you did not want the role in the first place.” Kvasir muttered, shaking his head.

**~*~**

Loki sat on the floor of the Weapons Vault, crossed legged like a child, staring up at the Casket of Ancient Winters. All around him lay bits of paper, magical tools and open books. He had been trying to understand how the Casket worked, but nothing he read about Jötnar seiðr from the books Sigyn had brought him seemed to match what he had so far observed of the Casket. Everything he had read suggested that Jötnar seiðr was far too brittle to have been used for the Casket. Yet the way it reacted to Loki, although so far he refused to touch it, was undoubtedly Jötun.

Tilting his head, Loki studied the object carefully. The blue light within rippled through the box like sunlight shining through ice, running from clear surface ice to the navy blue ice crushed under its own weight. It spoke of active power, constantly fighting against the confines of the Casket. The metal Loki was certain was purely decorative, perhaps functional. There was no seiðr in it. As for the rest of the Casket… he did not know. It was solid, but not made of any element or mineral Loki knew. The lines and shapes etched into it were probably reminiscent of Jötnar body markings, but Loki found there was something vaguely familiar about them that was not Jötnar.

For hours Loki had sat, staring at the Casket, trying to push his sight beyond normal vision, so he could see the extra dimensions that surround everything. He had managed to see the aura of power that flowed around the Casket, which morphed and twisted into the shapes of snowflakes around it, constantly changing like a Midgardian kaleidoscope. Otherwise, he could determine nothing from it, not even after a week of study.

What was slightly disconcerting was just how… appealing the damn thing was becoming. Ever since he started studying it, he had found it on the edge of his mind almost constantly. He had only spent an hour with it the first day, but just over a week later he had spent almost twenty hours with it. He knew he had to be careful, magical items could be very addictive, and that was the last thing he needed right now.

With that thought, he decided he had had enough for the day and rose to his feet. With a sweep of his hand, all his notes, tools and books leapt into his arms in a neat pile. As he turned away from the Casket he could have sworn he saw a flicker in the steady ripple of the energy inside. Turning back, he frowned at it, then shrugged. It probably just reacted to Frost Giant seiðr nearby.

The Guards sealed the Weapons Vault behind him as he left. Loki wondered what he should do next, since he was in no mood for more court games, when he heard a sniffle. He looked around and spotted a small figure in an alcove, huddled up. He frowned in concern and stepped closer,

“Thundi?”

Thundi looked up at him, tears in his eyes. Loki crouched down in front of him, looking for any sign of injury. “Thundi, what are you doing out here?” There was no point in asking why he was crying, he would deny that he was crying. Thundi sniffled again and wiped at his nose, keeping one arm against his chest, where he was hiding something.

“Wh-wanted to find you.” he stuttered.

“What for?”

Thundi gave a great sniff and shifted, uncurling a little, “Th-thought you mi-might help. ‘Cause you’re king and kings fix things.”

Loki hid a flinch, his conversation with Tyr flashing across his mind. “Well, I can try. What do you need fixed?”

Thundi uncurled more and took whatever he was holding into his hands, and held it out.

 _‘Oh no…’_ Loki thought to himself as he stared at the tiny white kitten, still blind and deaf, in his hands.

“My mother said her mother won’t feed her ‘cause she’s too little… that she’ll die without food. I can’t make her eat.” Thundi gave Loki puppy eyes worthy of Thor himself, “Please King Loki can you fix her?”

It would take a man of steel, ice and murder to look at the blonde child holding the white kitten and say no. Loki was only two of these things. He sighed and with a twitch of his fingers sent the things in his hand to his study.

“Come along then.” he commanded, “We’re going to the Healing Room.”

Thundi beamed at him and scrambled to his feet, clutching the kitten in his hands as he scampered after Loki, having to practically run to keep up with his long strides.

“Can you fix her King Loki?”

“We shall try,” Loki said carefully. He could feel the guards watching Thundi skipping after him with a mixture of amusement and confusion. He ignored them as he pushed the door to the Healing Room open and held it open for Thundi to follow.

“Good day Eir.” he said as he spotted the woman folding bandages. Eir looked up and blinked as she took in Loki standing there with a small boy, who was holding a kitten. “I was wondering if you had one of those bottles you use for ill babies I could make use of.”

“Of… course my king.” Eir disappeared and walked away to her storage cupboard, returning with a bottle with a soft teat. It was big enough to fit the kitten in with plenty of room to spare. Loki took it from her and thanked her.

“Come Thundi, we have to go to the kitchen now.” he said, turning and walking out. He tossed the bottle in the air as he walked. “Now, I’m going to show you what to do, and then she will be your responsibility, do you understand?”

Thundi nodded, “Yes King Loki.”

Loki looked down at him dubiously, “It won’t be easy, but if you really want her to get big and strong, you’ll have to feed her and care for her. You have to promise me you’ll do your duty fully.”

“I promise King Loki.”

“Well, all right then.” Loki said, still doubting that a five year old had the required attention span and having a nasty feeling that somehow he would find this kitten living in his bed chambers soon. It did not help that it looked an awful lot like Sigyn when she took cat form.

The kitchen nearly crashed to a halt when Loki walked in.

“Your majesty!” Ígulfríðr, the head cook, gasped at the sight of him. “I did not know you were coming.”

“I never sent word I was.” Loki said reaching behind him to pull Thundi forward, “This young gentleman is seeking warm milk to feed to a helpless kitten, would you be kind enough to oblige him? Goat’s milk is best.”

“Thundi!” Drífa yelped, looking mortified. Loki held his hand up to silence her before she babbled apologies.

“Calm down Drífa, I already made it clear I do not mind his enthusiasm. Besides, he came to me with a kind concern, there is nothing to be embarrassed about.”

Drífa went pink and curtsied deeply. “Thank you my king.”

Loki nodded and twirled the baby bottle in his hand so it shrank to a quarter of its original size. Ígulfríðr took it and filled it up with warmed goat’s milk. When it was ready, Loki brought Thundi out through the entrance that led out to the chicken coop and food dumping ground and sat down in the sun. He set Thundi on his knee and put his arms around him to teach him how to feed the kitten.

“Now you have to be patient and gentle with her, she’s not going to guzzle it all down, and if she tries, it will make her sick. Let her rest on your lap, no, no, on her stomach, she’s not an Aesir baby.”

The kitten was slow to latch on, but eventually she started to suckle.

“She’s eating!” Thundi cheered.

“Shhh… she can’t hear much yet, nor see, but we don’t want to disturb her by being too loud,” Loki instructed. Thundi nodded, watching the kitten intently. “Now, you’re going to have to give her plenty of hugs Thundi, she needs to feel like she’s never alone.”

“Mmhm!”

“And, she should sleep with this.” Loki conjured up a soft toy kitten, “It will keep her company when she sleeps.”

It would also make her less inclined to bite Thundi.

“And you’ll have to keep her warm, so put a heated pad under her blankets, but make sure it’s not too warm.”

“You know everything King Loki!” Thundi exclaimed, smiling at him. Loki gave a rueful smile and ruffled his blonde hair.

“No, but when I was your age I tried to rescue every hurt or abandoned animal I could.” His affiliation for the little lost creatures really should have given him an inkling into his own abandonment. The problem was he had seen enough of the animals he had attempted to save die under his care, for one reason or another and it had always been a painful loss. Thor had always helped him give the animals a proper send off.

When the kitten had eaten enough, Loki called for Thundi’s mother to come and hear him explain to Thundi exactly what he had to do to care for the kitten. Drífa listened attentively, but there was concern in her eyes and Loki knew she was thinking the same as him. A kitten that hadn’t been abandoned until it was two weeks old usually meant the mother probably knew it wasn’t going to live. But there was always a chance.

“What are you going to call her my boy?” Drífa asked, as the kitten curled up in Thundi’s lap for a nap.

“Hmm…” Thundi pushed his forefinger against his lip and looked up at Loki for help. Loki looked up at the sky thoughtfully, then got a wicked grin on his face.

“Call her Elli.” he said, eyes glittering with amusement. “Elli was the strongest woman in the universe, so it’s a good choice for her.”

Elli was also the woman Thor had wrestled as a younger man and lost spectacularly to. She had looked as frail as the kitten had. Loki had laughed until he had collapsed.

“Elli! I like it.” Thundi said with a grin.

“Good.” Loki glanced at the sun, and sighed, “I have to go now Thundi, but I want you to promise me again you’ll look after her.”

“I promise.” Thundi clapped his fist over his heart and bowed his head. Loki smiled and carefully lifted the boy off his knee and stood up. Elli squeaked in protest at being shuffled, but Loki brushed a thumb between her ears to sooth her. He also gently pushed a little energy into her tiny body, hoping it would keep her strong enough to survive.

**~*~**

By the evening on that day, everyone had heard of King Loki and child with his little kitten. People were fascinated by the tale, because it reminded many elders of days long gone, when Loki was a boy and was known for trying to rear dozens of sickly pets. Back then, everyone had known that the younger prince was a soft-hearted child, mischievous but soft-hearted, matching his elder brother’s big heart. Then it seemed that boy had vanished. Now, people were starting to wonder once more what exactly had happened.

Rumours were also abounding that the King was starting to take a greater interest in the women of the court. He flirted with them, teased them, danced with them, spent time with them outside the feasts, in the gardens, in the Fire Hall. It was very strange.

There were also darker rumours, of how the king would spend hours locked away in the Weapons Vault and in the Library, and no one knew what he was up to, not even his councillors. It was easy enough to guess that it had something to do with Jötunheim, but no one knew what the king intended for the realm.

The dark prince. The seiðr wielder. The trickster, the liar, the fool, the clever one. Beautiful where his brother was handsome, sly where his brother was honest, second only to Thor, and to no one else in any of his skills. Although seiðr made the nobility wary, the common folk were proud at the open acknowledgement that their prince, now king, was the greatest sorcerer in the Nine Realms. Despite their dislike of sneak assaults, no one would dare imply Loki was soft or weak. A flick of his wrist would send you to the afterlife with a dagger in your heart.

People wondered if he was merely using the boy to improve his image. No, insisted those who had seen him, if he meant to mislead, he would not do it so quietly, he would make sure everyone saw it, surely.

The King was often seen riding Sleipnir out of the city in early mornings, and not returning until after sunset. No one knew where he went. His courtiers were in a state of confusion, trying to keep up with him and no one was sure what to make of him. 

The second Prince of Asgard was proving to be the most intriguing of kings, and the most alarming.


	25. The Interference of Politics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sigyn gets some unwelcome news.

Loki had to see his wife. He did not care if he were caught, he had to see her. For a month he had been studying the Casket, and he was sure it was starting to drive him mad. The dreams about Laufey were back with a vengeance, forcing him awake in a cold sweat every night, and now he was starting to see looming blue shadows in the corner of his eye as he walked. And he was cold. He had never felt the cold much before, but now he was shivering without cause.

To distract himself he had been leaving the city on Sleipnir and exploring the surrounding villages and towns, cloaked with seiðr. He sometimes posed as a Light Elf, and inquired of Asgardian custom, to try and understand better what Tyr had been trying to tell him, to either confirm or prove him wrong. It was exhausting and still he could not sleep. He was on his last vestige of strength, he had to find Sigyn and talk to her. Their usual letter sending had stopped on either side, and Loki found he could not put his thoughts to pen to give to her, and he could only imagine she was still very upset with him about Laufey or perhaps the Svana and Ey were watching her more carefully than usual, after slipping their reins.  

Sverrir was waiting for him at the stables as he returned from another excursion and dismounted from Sleipnir, barely keeping his balance.

“My King! I must speak with you,” he called, running towards him as Loki strode towards the palace.

“Not now Sverrir,” he dismissed, trying to walk ahead of him. Sverrir kept pace.

“Please my king, it is urgent,” Sverrir insisted, “Myself and the entire court are concerned for your welfare. I only wish that you would confide in me, so that I can help you –Loki!”

Sverrir dared to grab Loki’s arm and pull him back. Loki reared back and loomed over him,

“What do you think you are doing?”

Sverrir backed up and bowed his head, “I’m sorry, but I am worried for you.”

“What for? I’m fine.”

“Majesty you’ve been running around all across the city and beyond for days, you lock yourself away in the Weapons Vault for hours at a go, and you’re not sleeping. We’re worried for your health.”

Loki snorted, turning away, “Don’t be. I’m fine.” Or he would be once he saw Sigyn.

“Majesty wait!” Sverrir chased after him, “There is another matter. The Crown Prince of Alfheim is here!”

Loki came to a dead stop and turned to look at him, “What?”

“Prince Berach of Alfheim is here. He comes to swear allegiance to you on behalf of Alfheim, and he brings books, just as the princess did –how many did you ask for?” Sverrir’s eyes glittered at the mention of the books.

“All they were willing to give,” Loki said absently, cursing all things as he realised he could not keep the crown prince waiting. Sigyn would be out of his reach for a little longer. “Very well Sverrir, make the prince comfortable, I shall be along presently, once I’ve changed from my riding garments.”

Sverrir looked very relieved as he bowed to him, “Yes majesty, I’ll go and tell him.”

Once Loki got to his chambers, he used magic to scrub his skin clean and erase the smell of horse from his hair, then he dressed in his ceremonial robes and promptly sat down on his bed and held his head in his hands while he composed himself. He was exhausted, and slightly shaky from his efforts, but now that he had a moment to think, he realised if he climbed through the mirror he would probably find himself surrounded by those blasted Svana and Ey women. There was a reason Sigyn always came to him, and why she could only do it after she had gone to bed. The women watched her like a hawk at all times, except when she was in bed. Once they had rotated sharing the room with her, in case she ever needed anything, but Sigyn had thrown the temper tantrum to end all temper tantrums and managed to get her way about having one time and place of privacy. The fact that she had done it just so she could sneak out to see Loki made him all the more impressed. Throwing tantrums was much more Odinson than Njordsdóttir.

Once his hands stopped trembling Loki drank several cups of mead and summoned two loaves of his favourite bread, eating them with less finesse than Thor ever would. Once he had finished the last crumb, he opened his door to go to the Throne Room.

Seeing Sigyn would just have to wait.

**~*~**

Sigyn was already awake when the doors to her bedchamber opened and Svana Ein came in, she always was. She needed the few minutes before her attendants walked in to mentally prepare for the day, to hold on to her sanity until the night came again.

“Sigyn? It is time to rise.” Svana Ein said, leaning over her and touching her shoulder. Sigyn opened her eyes and held her hand out. Svana Ein took it and helped her to rise from her bed. “Your parents wish to speak with you when you have eaten.”

Sigyn nodded and extended her arms out from her sides, waiting. Ey Fyrstr and Ey Þridi walked up to her and curtsied to her before stepping up and untying the collar of her nightgown, then pulling it over her head. Svana Ein drew the curtains, letting her chamber be flooded with light, obliterating the complete darkness. Sigyn closed her eyes as her bared skin was warmed by the sun, as Ey Fyrstr undid her plait and ran her fingers through the cream strands to let her long hair brush over the curve of her backside. 

Sigyn walked into the bathing room, letting Ey Annarr and Ey Fjórdi take her arms and help her step into the hot water. Sigyn’s mind flashed with the usual fantasy of using her magic to make herself slip, imagining the way her head would smash open on the hard white tiles, crimson blood a shock against the gleaming porcelain. Then she was kneeling in water up to her collar. The Ey started washing her body with soft cloths, while Svana Þrír got into the water as well and wetted her hair to comb it out.

Sigyn’s eyes meandered around the bathing room, hoping something would hold her attention for the duration of her bathing, but neither the lovely wall designs, nor the cautious looks of query from the Ey were enough to rouse her to speak. She had had periods like this before, where she said nothing to the women around her, and they obediently said nothing in return. Weeks could go by when only a handful of words were heard in the Princess’ entourage if she was in that sort of mood.

Sigyn’s eyes gave up on the walls and she started examining Ey Fyrstr’s body before her. She noted the tiny imperfections on the skin, a small freckle that rested in the crease of skin at the armpit, how her breasts were different from Ey Þridi’s in size and shape, her nipples darker than the other women’s.

As they worked their way down Sigyn’s body, Svana Þrír gently pulled Sigyn to sit on her thighs, hands holding her thighs in support as Ey Annarr rubbed at the crease between thigh and pelvis, and between her legs. Sigyn bit her tongue in irritation at the cleaning and amused herself with memories of how she hid evidence left by Loki on her body from the nine women. Svana Þrír let her go so she could lean forward and have her backside cleaned as well.

Loki was both fascinated and repulsed by the idea of being bathed so intimately every morning, but he was skittish about being touched. Sigyn had long stopped caring. The Svana and Ey were not people, not the way Loki was a person when he touched her, not like anyone else who kissed her hand or embraced her. They existed solely to cater to her, they had all shed their identities and their desires to attend to her. Their touches were gentle, but perfunctory. It was just bathing, nothing else. Loki could not help but think such intimacy must be uncomfortable, but Sigyn had long passed that stage.

Once they were done with her toes, she was taken out of the bath and dried. Svana Þrír styled her hair and dressed her in the garments she had picked out for Sigyn that day, and then Sigyn was escorted to her balcony. There she would eat her breakfast in front of the city, so everyone could see her and salute to her. She replied by covering her lips with three fingers and extending them to the people. Little children bounced with excitement when she looked at them. It made her ache deep and low in her belly to see their excitable, bright faces looking up at her with adoration. In bad days she thought they had Loki’s eyes, her nose, a wicked smile they shared, and had to rush away to avoid the longing that welled up inside her.

Soon, she told herself, soon. 

As she ate and the cool air of early morning roused her brain she wondered what her parents wanted to see her for. Usually it was just one of them summoning her, not both. Come to think of it, why was her mother even here? Rarely did she come to the capital now, so it must have been important. Neither of them had said much to her upon her return from Asgard, which had been frustrating, since she could not come out and demand they push for her to marry Loki, not after the trouble she had caused digging her heels in about marrying Thor. Her parents were plenty of things –stupid was not one of them.

Once she was finished her food, Sigyn went to her father’s study. Her father Njordr, his blue-grey hair pulled back behind his head, was staring out at the oceans lapping at the edge of the city, probably wishing he could go sailing, while her mother Skadi was sitting next to the fire, looming and strong as she carved an animal from wood with her favourite knife.

Sigyn shut the door behind her, her attendants remaining outside, and stepped forward three paces until her parents looked at her. Then she dropped into her deepest curtsey, which made her knees hit the ground and her spine pull in discomfort, even after centuries of practise.

“Majesties, you summoned me,” she said, eyes down on the ground.

“Yes my lady,” said Njordr, “Come and sit with us, we must have a discussion.”

Sigyn always had to brace herself as she pulled out of her curtsey, she could never just rise up out of it, it took a little extra effort. Still she did not stumble and went to the chair indicated, sitting deep into it and keeping her back straight. Her father crossed the room and stood next to her mother, who flicked away a bit of wood into the fire and set both items down on the nearby table. A united front. Whatever this was about, Sigyn was not going to like it.

“As you know Sigyn,” Skadi began, “Since the banishment of Prince Thor, we have had to… consider the issue of your marriage once more.”

Sigyn did nothing but nod. Njordr cleared his throat and said,

“The Queen and I have been discussing the tragic loss of a potential suitor for you, obviously even if Thor is able to redeem himself, he is unsuitable for you now. The realm would never allow it.”

“I see.” Sigyn felt her heart expand in delight. Thor would no longer be considered a suitor? It was exactly what she wanted, now she could marry Loki.

“In light of that,” Skadi continued, “We have decided to start negotiations with another suitor, and so far we are pleased with the reactions we have received.”

Sigyn hid her confusion, surely Loki would have written to her about this.

“So… you wish for King Loki to press his suit to me?” she asked.

Skadi snorted, “Not at all! A second son who only got the throne as a last resort? Vanaheim will have a fit. No Sigyn, we intend to betroth you to Flaith Berach, the Crown Prince of Alfheim. If all goes well, you’ll be wedded and bedded within the year.”

Njordr grimaced faintly at his wife’s uncouth words, but nodded. Sigyn stared at them in shock.

“Berach?” she repeated, barely able to avoid stuttering. “You… you intend me to wed him?”

“Well Sigyn, realistically, he’s the only acceptable choice,” Njordr said with a shrug, “He is a Crown Prince-”

“Loki is king,” said Sigyn without thinking. Her father sighed, shaking her head,

“For mere moments until Odin deigns to wake up. He will have to step down eventually, and then when Thor returns, he will step back into the role of second son. Unacceptable.”

“Besides, he’s Aesir. It would be a hard thing to get the whole realm to agree to,” said Skadi.

“But… Odin’s going to sleep for a long while, at least that’s what Mimir said.” Sigyn was scrambling to think up a good argument, but she was never as good as Loki when it came to winning arguments like this. She needed time to prepare. Loki could do anything by the skin of his teeth and do well.

“Mimir… that knarled old fool!” sneered Skadi, “Good was the day his head was parted from his body and we sent it back to Odin for trying to fool us.”

Sigyn barely flinched at the reminder of what happened to Mimir. “But… I’m supposed to be Queen of Asgard.”

“You’ve never shown much inclination towards it before,” said Skadi, narrowing her eyes. Sigyn swallowed and lifted her chin.

“I just assumed it would happen whatever my own feelings on the matter. I guess I got used to the idea.”

“Well, you can get used to the idea of being Queen of Alfheim. What difference will it really make? One prince instead of another,” said Njordr.

“The fact is Sigyn, we always put off the marriage with Thor until he was king because we feared that Asgard might… destabilise when he rose to the throne,” said Skadi, “Now our prudence has been rewarded, because Asgard is no longer the power it was. Odin is gone, so is Thor, and no one expects Loki to keep the realm in the dominant power. It simply is not in his ability.”

Sigyn felt a burning rising in her chest as she stared at her mother coolly. “So… you were only ever stringing Asgard along. Waiting.”

“Sigyn, as much as we hoped you would grow attached to Thor to make your marriage easier, this is still a political matter. I spun enough woes to Frigga that she would never push the matter out of kindness.” Skadi shrugged, coarse hands rubbing over the fabric of the chair she sat upon. “Everyone knows Frigga was the one most vested in the union of Vanaheim and Asgard, and that could not be confirmed until Thor was made king.”

“So that’s why you would send me to Alfheim when I was a child? Not to learn seiðr but to get to know Berach?”

“It was a case of both. You needed all the magical education you could acquire, if only so we could rival the power of Odin and now Loki in this. The fact that Berach was one of your tutors was no coincidence of course.”

Sigyn’s mouth was dry as a desert, and she could not swallow as she stared at her parents. None of this should have surprised her, none of it! Her parents were far more cunning than they ever let on to Asgard or the other Nine Realms, letting the other realms think they were too busy hating each other to be much for political games. They just never told her about these games.

“Sigyn, aren’t you glad? You’ll finally be married and be able to become a mother.” Skadi’s amber eyes were boring into her daughter’s. “You’ve been wanting that for a long time, haven’t you?”

Damn her mother for noticing. Yes, Sigyn had been longing for the day when she would hold her first child in her arms. But it was meant to be Loki’s child too, not Berach’s. Sigyn called herself the father of Fenrir for goodness sake!

“… yes mother. But are you sure Alfheim is a better ally for Vanaheim than Asgard? We’ve always been allies, friends even.”

As one, Skadi and Njordr sneered, Njordr saying, “Asgard thinks it needs no friends, only in its unending generosity does it bestow its protection and kindness upon the rest of us.”

“A-are you saying you intend to attack Asgard?” Sigyn asked, sweat breaking out on the back of her neck.

“Not at all.” Skadi cut through the air with her hand, “But it would be nice to perhaps… shift the balance of power in our favour a bit. Loki has already shown he is reluctant to go to battle-”

“He always was more cautious than bull-headed Thor.” Njordr shrugged, “Hard to say which boy will prove the greater problem.”

“Alfheim has long been stable, more so than Asgard in some respects, since Alfheim has not gone to war since Banríon Aetril cast out Malekith and the other Dökkálfar from her world, and that was centuries before the war with Jötunheim, right around the time Berach was born. We can be assured of Berach’s competence as a king because he has handled everything well each time his mother has made him regent when she decides she wishes to raise another child, or go off on one of her explorations… whatever those entail.”

“Sounds… reasonable,” Sigyn uttered, barely able to breathe. She gave herself a small shake, “But, majesties, it may be that Asgard expects the, admittedly unofficial, agreement for me to wed their future king be upheld. They might see your decision as a great offence, with the way the marriage was built up.”

“Sigyn, you’re almost eleven hundred years old. Long past the age you should have been when you married, but we put it off to make sure you had the best possible match. Loki is too new if nothing else to be considered a match for you.” Skadi rose to her feet and picked up the half formed animal she had been making, “The matter is decided. We will push this marriage forward and have you in Berach’s bed by the time the feast of Lithasblot is upon us.”

Sigyn inhaled and nodded, “As you wish.”

She rose to her feet and curtsied to them, “Majesties.”

Njordr looked like he was going to speak, but Sigyn left the room before he could. She barely noticed the Svana and Ey rising to follow her, but walked back to her chambers, a buzzing in her ears and her vision itching with black at the edges. When she entered her study, she paused and inhaled deeply.

“I’m going to take a nap.”

She did not wait for a reply, only stepped into her bedchambers and shut the door behind her. Lifting her head, she saw her reflection in the mirror. Her magic mirror. The gateway to Loki. But all she could see now was her own pale face, staring back at her. The reflection swallowed and twitched, and then Sigyn looked to the side. Her ceremonial dagger rested on her dresser. She picked it up and unsheathed the sharp edge, turning it over against her palm. She walked across the room and sat on her bed. The steel caught the sunlight for a moment.

The memories of being a girl and sitting on Berach’s knee as he helped her learn Ljósálfar seiðr came back, and she narrowed her eyes as the memory took on a new context. Berach had treated her like a child, there was nothing inappropriate about his touch or gaze, but still, he must have known this was possible. The idea of lying in bed with him… she shuddered.

No. That was unacceptable. 

She sighed and lifted the dagger. 


	26. The Legacy of the Mother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki learns the truth about his birth mother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for all your lovely comments, I really appreciate them, even though I'm terrible at remembering to reply.

After Prince Berach had sworn a, slightly less impressive than Sigyn’s, oath of loyalty to Loki, Loki invited him to a feast in his honour and then suggested they see what books Alfheim had been generous in giving. Loki could not wait to start browsing through them. 

Berach was tall for a Ljósálfar, with brown hair and skin like red sand. Unlike his mother’s, Berach’s wings did not shimmer, rather they were solid tan, with red veins etched into them. Everything about Berach was sharp, his bone structure, his eyes, his voice, he was like a sword given Ljósálfar form. Or maybe half-Ljósálfar form, no one was quite sure what his father had been, beyond a very accomplished assassin.

His mind was as sharp as his tongue and Loki liked him for it, even if he knew it would make him hard to deceive and win over. It made him good company as Loki examined the new books.

“You have been very generous your majesty.” Loki said, smiling as he lifted a book on pre-Asgardian history. “I’m very grateful to you.”

Berach shrugged mildly, “My Máthair insisted on it. She said you would appreciate this gift far more than any other man. Which… from the grin on your face I see is true.”

Loki smirked, looking up and meeting the prince’s eyes. “Your mother deserves her reputation of wisdom then.”

Berach smirked back, “I’m glad you think so. There is a matter I would like to speak to you about.”

“Yes?”

“It is… somewhat official.”

Loki set the book down at the serious tone, “Of course, we can speak in my Audience Chambers.”

Loki brought Berach into the King’s State Chambers, where he dealt with ambassadors and the like in a more private setting.

“Please sit,” he directed, taking his own chair. All official rooms had a special chair for the king. None of them were the right size for Loki, whose long legs bent awkwardly and he had to push his knees further apart than he really liked to in order to sit comfortably. Berach sat primly and comfortably as if he was accustomed to being in Asgard. A servant poured them wine and then Loki dismissed him from the room. “Now, what is this matter?”

Berach cleared his throat, “Well, majesty, as you know, my Máthair is a woman of great power and influence, and she rules Alfheim with a perfect mix of gentle care and steel strength.”

Loki nodded.

“In light of the new situation of Asgard, my Máthair would like to lend her assistance to you in establishing yourself as the king in a… broader sense, among the Nine Realms.”

Sipping at his wine, Loki smiled, “That’s very generous of her.”

“Yes, well she would see it as a mutually beneficial partnership… you see she would like to press her suit to you, and that way strengthen both our realms in a single stroke.”

Loki had to think for a moment before he understood what he meant. “Oh! You mean… your mother wants to… marry me?”

Berach smiled, a look that did not suit him, and nodded, “Yes. My Máthair has long been fond of you and she thinks you would not only be well matched as a wedded couple, but you would find each other extremely helpful in the politics of the Nine Realms. If you were to marry her, of course I would also be allied to you as your step-son.”

“You’re six hundred years older than me,” said Loki faintly.

“Seven, but what’s a century between allies?” Berach’s smile widened into a smirk. “What do you say to it?”

Loki inhaled deeply to buy time.

“Queen Aetril already has six children, and never married. Why now?”

Berach spread a hand, “My Máthair has a fondness for you. She thinks you two would actually be able to be wed for eternity and enjoy it.”

“… if it’s a case of her being fond of me, why wait until now?”

“Because no one knew what Odin’s plans were for you. Now you can make your own plans.”

Loki nodded, “Well, this is a very intriguing offer.” He let his voice warble with a hint of temptation, rubbing at his chin thoughtfully. “Of course I would have to consult with my advisors…”

“Of course.”

“And there is the matter of Vanaheim, there was always an intention for Odinson to marry Njordsdóttir. I would need to look into the negotiations for that as well.” Loki knew he was treading a fine line, but he could not outright say no to the elf. Berach’s smirk widened.

“Of course, Vanaheim. It would not do for our mutual ally to feel cut out.”

“Exactly!” Loki smiled. “In fact I was considering having a meeting of the three realms, maybe more depending on how things are on the other realms, to see if we could come to a more mutually satisfying peace.”

Berach chuckled, “Ah, the optimism of a newly crowned king. I remember that.”

Loki’s smile dropped from his face, “I’m not being foolishly so. But I think it could work.”

“Of course it could, but it would require everyone to think on the same path, and the likelihood of such a thing is not high.”

“That does not make it impossible!” Loki said in irritation. Berach was talking to him like he was a child. And this was one of the problems Loki was worried about. He was the youngest monarch in the Nine Realms, by quite a bit. How was he ever going to get people to take him seriously if all they saw was a toddler who had just learned to walk and was showing it off at every opportunity?

Berach shrugged, “We shall see. You’ve a reputation for getting what you want with your silvertongue, perhaps you’ll manage it.”

Loki grit his teeth and forced a smile on his face. “Yes, we shall see.”

**~*~**

Berach left the next morning, with Loki, against his own desires, inviting him to the upcoming Ostara celebration.

“Vanaheim is an important contributor to it. Let us all come together in friendship and celebrate the continuing peace.” he said to the Ljósálfar who nodded, “I’ll have my man send you information about it. We were thinking of celebrating Ostara, your people celebrate something similar, yes?”

“Yes, we celebrate Ostara as well. It would be good to celebrate with friends.” Berach held out his hand to Loki, who grasped his wrist to shake before bowing to Berach.

“Please tell your mother I am flattered and grateful for her proposal, and I will have an answer for her presently.”

“Of course.” Berach bowed, then went to stand at the portal as Heimdall pushed down on his sword and the Ljósálfar vanished in a swirl of colour.

“Are you going to inform your wife of this new proposal?” Heimdall asked. Loki narrowed his eyes,

“Not yet, not until I have a sense of how seriously this is going to be taken. And you should watch yourself Heimdall, I appreciate that you will keep my secret, but do not think that allows you to be smart with your king.”

“I would not dream of it my king.”

Loki sighed and turned away,

“My king!”

Loki turned back impatiently, but Heimdall’s gaze was turned away from him. Immediately Loki thought of Thor.

“Is something wrong on Midgard? If that oaf got himself in trouble-”

“No. It is the new king of Jötunheim.”

“Is he amassing an army?”

“No.”

Loki huffed, “Well don’t keep me in suspense Heimdall!”

“He is calling to me, saying he would like to speak with you about the Casket of Ancient Winters.”

Loki groaned, he did not want to go to Jötunheim and face his… face the king. But the very mention of the Casket sent a tingle through him, and he knew he would have to go.

“Can you inform the council I wish to speak with them on an important matter when I return?”

Heimdall nodded, readying his sword to turn on the Bifrost. Loki summoned some furs and his blades, which he secreted on his person, then summoned his helm and Gungnir. He glanced back at Sleipnir, half thinking of bringing him, but decided against it. Sleipnir would not like the cold.

“I know you won’t, but I must advise you to take a legion of men with you.”

“I really don’t think so Heimdall,” said Loki impatiently, “Just send me down.”

“Loki…”

Loki looked around and found Heimdall looking down at him with the oddest expression, “In many ways you are more intelligent than Thor, but he understands he can give his trust to people. Do you know why?”

“No, but I’m sure you’ll tell me.”

“Because he knows people can trust him. If someone won’t let anyone trust them, they cannot trust anyone around them.”

Loki narrowed his eyes and stared at Heimdall as he pushed down on the sword and sent Loki hurtling down to Jötunheim. Helblindi was waiting for him at the Bifrost site.

“You come quickly… and alone,” he murmured in surprise.                                                                         

Loki straightened his back, resting Gungnir on the rock. “Was I wrong to think you were not fool enough to harm me when my council knows where I am?”

Helblindi sighed, “No. But I expected a usual showing of Asgardian might.”

“That’s only done if it’s required. Is it required?” Loki arched an eyebrow at him. Helblindi narrowed his red eyes and shook his head. Loki smiled coolly, “I’m glad to hear it.”

They were silent for a moment, regarding each other, then Helblindi said, “I’m glad you came so quick.”

“I was on the Bifrost when you called to Heimdall. You said something about the Casket. I’m finding it an interesting study.”

Helblindi looked thoughtful, then extended his arm. “This way.”

They walked side by side, Loki’s eyes moving over the land. The damage Thor had done was unbelievable, even by his standards. The once expansive glacier had been reduced to a thin ribbon of ice that only just held Helblindi’s weight. With every step Helblindi took, his feet added more ice to the path, strengthening it. Despite himself, Loki was curious, wondering if it was a conscious action or an instinct, like breathing.

“Where are the other Jötnar?” Loki asked when the silence started to annoy him. “The Mountain and the Storm Giants?”

“They have their place on this planet, and we have ours,” said Helblindi, sounding annoyed. Loki was intrigued.

“So… you don’t interact?”

“They have… resentment issues.”

“Because you lost the war, or because you started it?”

Helblindi stopped and loomed over Loki, glaring down at him. Loki stared back, refusing to be intimidated.

“Do not think I have forgotten that you slew my father. For the sake of my people, I have not demanded any sort of repayment, though it cost me much repute to do so, but do not think to test my patience.”

“How can I know how to deal with you if I don’t?” Loki asked smartly, eyes gleaming. Helblindi’s eyes flashed, then he snorted in disgust,

“Come, before you freeze to death, and the Aesir blame me for it.”

Loki did not bother to deny the truth of that statement, although he did wonder if he was capable of freezing to death if he was really Jötun, if the Aesir illusion would make him more vulnerable to the cold. It was already seeping into him. They made their way through the crumbling city and into a building that seemed in much better condition, that was built into a cliff-face.

“This is the Temple,” Helblindi said. Loki looked at him sharply. A temple? The Temple? Was this where Odin had found him? It must have been if this was where the Casket had been kept. Such a strange place to leave a baby to die now that Loki thought about it.

“The Casket was kept here?”

“Yes, and this was where Odin committed his cruellest crime.”

Loki looked around, refusing to be baited. “I like what you’ve done with it.”

Helblindi clenched his fists, “You would be wise to show some respect.”

“Maybe, but I’ve never made a claim to be so,” said Loki, eyes falling on one wall. Lining it like grotesque statues were five Jötnar, all dead. Loki idly noted that the Jötnar had crucifixion in common with Midgardians as an execution method.

“They failed in their duty. Laufey was not pleased,” growled Helblindi as he stepped deeper into the temple.

“I did not come here to see bodies. Why are we here?” Loki asked impatiently. Every fibre of his being was telling him to leave.

“You come to learn about the Casket of Ancient Winters. To do so, should you not meet its creator?”

Loki span around at once, “The creator of the Casket of Ancient Winters?”

Helblindi smirked over his shoulder and then tilted his head forward.

“Come.”

Curiosity kept any more comments locked away as Loki followed Helblindi deeper into the temple, into some dark catacombs. The Jötnar bodies that lined the walls were stern but peaceful, a part of the ice itself now. Loki looked from side to side as huge, hulking bodies loomed out of the darkness. Perhaps coming alone had been a very, very bad idea.

Down, down, down they went, deeper into the cliff, but the ice never gave way to the rock. Finally, they stepped out of the narrow corridor and into a large chamber. Helblindi lit a torch, filling the chamber with light. Loki squinted in the change.

“Here she is. The creator of the Casket of Ancient Winters.” Helblindi sighed. Loki blinked to clear his vision, and stared.

“I… I don’t understand.” he said, stunned.

In the large chamber was a single body, encased in ice, and surrounded by precious metals in the form of bowls, weapons, jewels. The body stood on her feet, hands tucked under her chin, facing the entrance. The ice had preserved her so well she might only have died yesterday. All of this spoke of great respect and power.

But this was no Jötun.

Loki stepped forward, wide-eyed as he looked at the Aesir woman before him. She could have been sleeping.

“I don’t understand.” Loki repeated, while inside his chest his heart was trying to break his sternum.

“This is my father’s first wife, Bergdís. She came from Vanaheim.”

Loki looked at Helblindi sharply,

“She made the Casket?”

Helblindi nodded, “As a gift to her people. She was our queen.”

“Impossible.” Loki hissed, “Why would a Vanirian woman come to Jötunheim?”

Helblindi drew himself up, as if debating how to answer. Finally, he answered, “My father said she was very wise, schooled in seiðr and knew the Jötnar had their natural magical skills, but could not harness it the way the Aesir could. We could not craft tools with it beyond our bodies. Bergdís believed she could do just that. With my father’s help she studied our magic, learned our ways, and became Laufey’s mate. But she could not craft a tool to carry our magic, it was simply too fragile, too brittle for the task. Then she conceived a child.”

Loki could not breathe, he thought he might be ill. No… this could not be happening!

“The child in her womb was full of magic, and its presence helped stabilise the seiðr of the Frost Giants inside her while she worked. For twenty years she carried the child, for the exhaustive use of seiðr slowed his growth. He was seeped in the magic of Bergdís and of Jötunheim itself. The Casket of Ancient Winters was built using Vanirian seiðr melded with Jötnar seiðr, and when it was complete, all the Frost Giants fell to their knees and experienced a sense of unity that had never been felt before.”

“And once you were united, you assaulted Midgard.” Loki spat, barely able to keep his voice from trembling.

“No,” Helblindi murmured, “Once we were united, we sought to prove our strength to the other Jötnar. Your father saw us as a threat and warned mine to be wary. My father was enraged at the arrogance of yours, and decided to prove to him he was no god. That is why he invaded Midgard, so the mortals could see Odin as the arrogant fool he is. You know the rest.”

“How did… she die?” Loki gestured to Bergdís.

Helblindi sighed and touched her ice casket. “The child was in her womb for fifty five years before he was born. My father said he could change form depending on who held him. Bergdís gave birth in this temple, right before the war for Midgard began. Laufey left his wife and child here, certain they would be safe. He left guards and attendants to protect them. But when he returned he found Bergdís dead on the ground, and their son was gone, only his blood telling of what happened. He knew Odin had done this, he had been the only one who could handle the Casket, which was kept here too. The guards had fled and Odin killed my father’s wife and son, and took the Casket too! The only thing of them left!”

Helblindi glared at Loki, and Loki subtly reached for one of his daggers as he felt the threat increase. He could not move to flee, he could barely think.

“My father told you Odin was a murderer and a thief. Now you know why.”

“This is impossible,” Loki murmured, “Odin would never slay a woman.”

“The truth is before you.”

“No!” Loki barked, “I do not care. He would never-! He… he would never…”

His vision narrowed to Bergdís face –his mother’s face. Her hair was black, her skin alabaster white, her fingers were long and slender under an angled face. If her eyes were open, Loki knew they would be green.

_“You look just like your mother.”_

Not a lie. Not a lie at all.

_“I thought we could unite the two worlds, through you.”_

Odin would have been desperate for peace, to put an end to the war, could he have been desperate enough to…

Something touched Loki’s back and he jumped, looking around. He had backed into the wall as his mind went into overdrive. He looked back at Bergdís, beautiful, powerful Bergdís, clever Bergdís and then glanced at Helblindi. The Frost Giant was watching him unblinkingly, suspicion creeping into his blood red eyes. Loki had to pull himself together before the other king started making connections.

“S-so, the Casket is Vanirian in design. That will be very helpful.” He pushed away from the wall and drew himself up. “I must go. A kingdom does not rule itself.”

“Of course.” Helblindi gestured to the corridor. Loki was barely aware of their walk back to the Bifrost site. Only when they reached it did Loki look up at Helblindi.

“Do Frost Giants not believe in blood payment, or wergild?”

“We do when it is warranted.”

“Then… then why did Laufey make no such demand for his wife and son?”

Helblindi shrugged, “I cannot say. My mother never knew, and my father could not bear to speak of it. Perhaps he did it for the same reasons I did not demand it for Laufey. A life or two is not worth another war, not when we would be so crippled.”

Loki knew he should not hear it as a declaration of his own worthlessness, but his body began to burn. He gave a stiff nod and turned away.

“Heimdall!”

The Bifrost blinded him for a few moments, and then Loki found himself standing in the observatory, with Heimdall’s heavy gaze upon him. They regarded each other and Loki clenched his fists, stepping forward.

“You saw?”

“Yes my king.”

“Did you already know?”

“No.”

Loki smiled without humour, “I don’t believe you.”

Heimdall stiffened, “Loki-”

“Enough!” Loki snapped, striding through the observatory and leaping onto Sleipnir’s back. Sensing Loki’s distress, Sleipnir galloped along the Bifrost at a dangerous speed, taking Loki away from Valaskjálf, from Idavoll and out into the woods. He rode through the forest, up into the mountains, until the city was little more than a dot and the sunset was imminent. Only then did Sleipnir stop. The horse was heaving with exhaustion and Loki slid off him slightly bow-legged from the furious pace the horse had set. Not that it really mattered because Loki collapsed to the ground, covered his face and let out a sob.

It was a sob of relief, of bitterest joy.

He was half Vanir.

It was unbearably relieving to know this. He was half Vanir. Granted that was not Aesir, but it was so much better than being Jötun. It meant his pale skin was not false, it was his as much as his Jötun blue.

Loki looked at his hands, slightly blotchy from holding the reins. For the first time since that Jötun had touched him, he felt like his hands were his once more. He had his mother’s hands. He really did look like her, but it was not a curse.

And she had been brilliant, full of magic which she had soaked Loki in, gifted him with it, incredibly intelligent –she must have been to have made the Casket.

So why was she dead?

Loki turned his hands around, staring at the back for a moment, his relief giving way to confusion. If his mother had been so powerful, so clever, how had she been killed? And who had done it?

It couldn’t have been Odin, it just couldn’t! He would never harm a woman, he would consider it distasteful. But then who could have done it? Did Odin know who his mother was? Had he feared her power? Why had Loki never heard of her?

Questions rolled in his head, but Loki did have one answer to a question that had been plaguing him. Why he was becoming obsessed with the Casket. It was made of his seiðr, just like Sleipnir, and he had unconsciously sensed that. The Casket was not only his by right, it was a part of him, a part of his seiðr.

Loki had no idea what this meant for himself or for the Casket… and right now he did not care. He slumped sideways and lay on the ground, eyes fixed on golden Idavoll, and lay there for some time. At some point in the night Sleipnir lay down next to him, warming him with his big body. Loki’s mind whirled in circles again and again, returning every time back to the memory of Bergdís face as she lay encased in ice. Had she really loved Laufey? Or had she mated with him to get pregnant, knowing it was the only way to make the Casket?

Loki thought about Laufey, about the look on his face as he realised who Loki was.

_“You look just like your mother.”_

Loki knew emotions, Loki knew how to read people. And try as he might to ignore the obvious… he knew what emotion Laufey had been showing him. Laufey had loved him in that moment when he knew who he was. Even though Loki had lied, tricked and killed him, Laufey had just been happy Loki was alive.

Laufey had loved him. The Frost Giants were capable of love. Only monsters could not love.

Only monsters killed their parents without a second thought.

Another sob clawed out of his throat and he covered his head with his hands. 


	27. A Question of Cowardice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A big fight will change Loki's relationship forever.

Loki slept on the ground, curled up against Sleipnir for warmth and comfort. He slept fitfully, waking regularly crying out for Sigyn, for his mother, for Odin… for anyone who could say something, anything, to put his mind at ease.

Strangely his dreams were about his own children. Jörmungandr’s accusatory eyes, no longer full of love for his father, not after seeing what Loki had done to his mother. Hel with her black hair, her mottled flesh on one side of her face reaching up to him from her crib before falling away from his hands into the depths of Niflheim. Fenrir nipped at his fingers with toothless jaws, whimpering for him. Every time he woke, his chest ached, his stomach was sore and his cheeks were wet.

It was maybe an hour before dawn when he finally decided he could not remain where he was and he roused Sleipnir.

“Come on. You can walk, hm?”

Sleipnir clambered to his eight hooves and Loki mounted him. They started to make their way back to the city. Loki leaned forward, feeling mentally and physically exhausted as they ambled their way through the trees. He would need to talk to his mother again, find out if she knew anything about his mother… although he doubted it. Why would she not mention that he was only half Jötun when he was so distressed about his blood? Maybe he wouldn’t tell her.

Who might know what he really was? Who had been with Odin when Loki had been found?

Tyr.

Loki felt his breath catch and Sleipnir came to a stop in surprise, sensing his distress. Loki swallowed and petted Sleipnir’s neck.

“It’s fine. Go on.”

Sleipnir whickered and began to walk again. Loki was in no rush to get back, he needed time to calm his mind and be ready to face the council. He needed to find a way to twist out of the marriage to Queen Aetril, without offending Alfheim.

It was past midday before Loki reached the palace and he slid off Sleipnir, landing on wobbly legs. He petted Sleipnir, but let the stable-hands take him to clean him up. He pulled himself up and started walking towards the entrance to the palace. His mother, Sverrir and Kvasir were all waiting for him.

“Majesty! You had us worried,” said Kvasir, his voice just shy of being scolding. “If Heimdall had not told us-”

“What did Heimdall tell you?” snapped Loki, looming over the older man. Kvasir started in surprise,

“Just that you were safe and well and had gone for a ride.”

Loki arched an eyebrow in surprise. So Heimdall had stayed silent? That was worth remembering.

“I did. There was no need to worry.”

“Forgive me, majesty, but you look very weary,” said Sverrir gently. Loki gave him a sharp look and he clammed up.

“Do you wish for us to gather for that matter you wanted to talk about?” Kvasir asked. Loki closed his eyes, grimacing at the idea of having to deal with the lendmenn today. “Or would it be more suited to a full day of debate? We could attend to it tomorrow.”

Loki nodded, relieved to have a logical answer, “Yes, it’s a rather important meeting. Kvasir, will you pull all the documents on the negotiations made with Vanaheim regarding the attempts to betroth Thor to the Princess Sigyn? They will be relevant.”

“Yes majesty. Anything else?”

Loki had to give the three credit for containing their obviously burning curiosity. He shook his head, “I don’t think so. Now if you will excuse me, I’m in rather desperate need of a bath.”

“We weren’t going to say but…” Sverrir gave him an innocent smirk that drew a chuckle from Loki as he walked away. His mother followed him.

“What is it mother?” he asked with a heavy sigh.

“Loki… what is troubling you now?” she asked. Loki slowed his steps and looked at her.

“Nothing beyond the needs of the realm.”

He was not about to explain to Frigga that he had found his birth mother and did not know what to make of her. He was still trying to take the new information in, the relief of his less distasteful heritage muddling with some rather unpleasant thoughts about the fact that she had used Loki, unformed and vulnerable, to make the Casket. Seiðr was considered dangerous to unborn children, it was why his own were so strange. Yet Bergdís had exposed him for fifty-five years to incredibly strong seiðr. The damage that could have been done to him… had she just not cared about it?

Frigga reached out and touched his shoulder, “Whatever it is Loki, you can come to me. Do not think that now you are grown, or for any other discovery, that I have stopped being your mother. There is no shame in coming to me for a respite.”

Loki swallowed, “I really need that bath mother. Excuse me.”

Frigga let him go, and he strode to his chambers, his walk becoming more of a shuffle as he shut the door behind him and made his way to his bed chambers.

“Where have you been?”

Loki blinked as he registered Sigyn’s sharp voice. He looked around and saw her sitting on the table against the wall, a cup dangling from her hand, in her pink and white nightgown. His eyes were drawn at once to the most obvious thing.  

“What happened to your hair?”

Sigyn huffed, “What do you think happened?”

Loki stared at the short locks that now barely reached her jaw and sighed, “You got bad news from your parents, didn’t you?”

“Oh, well deduced majesty!” she snapped, raking her fingers through the white-blonde to pull it out of her face.

“I’m sure the Svana and Ey were thrilled to catch you hacking away at your hair.”

“Svana Eir just took the dagger from me and put it back where it belonged and Svana Þrír just pulled out some old headdresses to accommodate it. Nothing fazes them!” She slammed her fist onto the table she was sitting on.

“Have you been drinking?” Loki asked with a groan, “I’m not in the mood for this right now Sigyn.”

“Too bad,” she sneered, sliding off the table and walking up to him. She threw her arms around his neck, eyes too bright, too hard for the bright smile on her face. “Don’t you want to know what my parents did to upset me so much?”

Loki’s arms slipped around her waist, pulling her closer as much to give her comfort as to support himself. “What’s happened?”

Sigyn’s smile fell away and the brightness in her eyes melted into tears as she now struggled to speak. “My parents have… they have decided to marry me off within the year… to Prince Berach of Alfheim.”

It was a rather strange sensation to feel like you were falling through space when you could still feel the floor under your feet. Loki’s vision swam as he tried to think of something to say. Sigyn was still talking,

“Apparently even if you are a king, you are still a second son and you are Aesir. That is not good enough for my people. It doesn’t matter if you’re successful… my parents think Asgard is unstable now, with Thor gone, and Odin’s sleep lasting so long… but not permanent. Your hold on the throne is not strong enough for them.” 

“And… you just accepted this?”

Even as the words left his mouth, Loki knew they were a mistake. Sigyn’s expression hardened.

“I said nothing! There was nothing I could say!”

“No, of course not. Norns forbid that you actually stand up to your parents for once,” he drawled, pulling away from her and walking to his bathing chambers.

“You know I have no say over what they decide!” Sigyn snapped.

“As far as I’m aware you’ve never even tried to have a say… never tried to fight them,” Loki replied, turning the taps on and letting the water tumble into the deep vessel. His heart was hammering in his chest and he realised that under his exhaustion, anger was beginning to burn.

“What about us? I defy them every time I step through that mirror,” Sigyn argued. Loki turned back to look at her, deciding he hated the new haircut she had given herself in some clumsy act of rebellion. How many times before had she cut her hair, slashed her dresses or done something else to her appearance when her parents upset her? It never helped. 

“A cowardly defiance, just like the hair,” he said before he could think, a strange pressure shifting in his chest as he spoke. Sigyn’s face drained of all colour as she stared at him. “You claim it is defiance, and maybe it is. But that is not the same as standing up to them. You’ve never done that in your whole life, and I don’t think you want to, at least not about us. It’s so much easier, isn’t it Sigyn, to just accept it, not fight it?”

There was a horrible silence, broken only by the sloshing of the water as his bath filled up. Loki felt stretched, detached from the anger that was bringing these words, these things he had almost been unaware of, hidden in the back of his mind for a long time, to the front.

“You talk to me of cowardice?” Sigyn asked, deathly quiet as her lip curled back. “You talk to me about being a coward, as if you are not one too?”

Loki did not move as she stalked up to him, the release of pressure from his chest now crumbling like paper in embers. Sigyn got right into his face as she spat,

“I may not stand up to my parents for our marriage, but you cannot stand up to yours for your children.”

Loki’s eyes narrowed as a sharp bolt of rage cut through him. “No!”

Sigyn’s voice was a poisonous hiss, “Hel needed the realm of Niflheim, she would have died in Asgard, but you left Jörmungandr in Midgard. And Fenrir… you could have fought with Odin about him, and you never did. You just let him bind our baby and wept and lamented and did nothing to actually help him!”

Loki’s fist slammed backwards, cracking the stone wall under the strength of the blow.

“Enough!” He lifted his eyes to her, trembling with rage, no longer detached. “Don’t you dare use my children to deflect my point! This isn’t about them. This is about you treating our marriage as a delightful secret, a game, a petty way for you to defy the strict rules of your culture, when you should be fighting them! If you really love me, if you really wanted this marriage to be public, you’d have told them the truth! But no. That’s asking too much of you, isn’t it Sigyn? Poor, trapped princess, helpless and meek –you were raised to be a politician, a great sorcerer, you were given lessons in fighting that Sif would have died for and you waste it all!”

“Stop it!” she snarled, shaking as her eyes flashed. “Just stop it! That’s not fair.”

“I am sick of being the one fighting, defending, supporting our marriage! Always I am the one making the promises to tell Odin the truth, and never once have you done the same. I told myself that I had to do it because you could not… but now I think you just don’t want to.”

“That’s not true! Loki-”

“What would you do if your parents had the marriage done tomorrow? Would you marry him thinking that somehow I would find a way to stop it? That I would weave a web of words that would save you? Save yourself for once! You’re perfectly capable of doing so.”

Loki knew he should take the words back, but he could not. Sigyn stared at him, mercifully dry-eyed. She looked very shaken, sober and pale. Loki knew his words had hit deeper than he had expected.

“Do you want a real marriage Sigyn?” he asked faintly.

Sigyn nodded, “You know I do.”

“Then make it happen. Don’t wait for me to do it for you. I have nothing to offer you right now.”

For a moment, Sigyn looked terrified and alone, and Loki wanted only to hold her. He wanted to apologise, to kiss her, but he stayed where he was, watching as her face hardened and she drew herself up.

“Fine.”

She turned away from him and went back to the mirror. She tapped the rune and made it turn opaque again. Then she paused and looked back at him, eyes glittering with rage,

“You say I do nothing for our marriage. If it weren’t for me, there would be no marriage at all. I’m the one who pursued you. You would be smart to remember that Loki.”

Loki said nothing, his tongue felt like lead in his mouth. He just watched as his wife walked through the mirror and the glass cleared, showing only his own reflection once more. He looked as terrible as he felt and he turned away, starting to undress. He felt numb inside, and even though the steam was so thick in the room he knew the water would burn, he barely felt it as he stepped in. He pulled up his legs and hugged them to his chest, resting his chin on his hand.

Only two days ago Loki had been desperate to see Sigyn, to tell her everything that had been troubling him. Now he was not sure what he wanted from her.

As his skin turned an unhappy pink in the water, Loki sat perfectly still, eyes fixed on the wall, and he began to think. 


	28. Musings of Grandeur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki reflects on his life and his future.

Loki sat for hours in the bath, thinking.

He regretted his words to his wife, but the more he thought about it, the more he acknowledged the truth in them. He was tired of Sigyn not standing up to her parents, he was tired of her looking to him for a solution to this problem that was their marriage, when he knew she was smart enough and strong enough to figure it out herself. Of course he would not just abandon her to it, he would help her in any way he could, but he needed… something from her, anything to see that she was trying. He needed her to take the reins of that issue from him for a while, so he could deal with the other problems he was faced with.

_‘Like my birth.’_

Loki had tried to ignore it for the most part, refusing to think beyond the necessary about the Frost Giants and his connection to them. But he knew his lack of sleep was probably tied directly to that, and he desperately wanted to sleep. So he forced himself to sit and think on it.

First, he was Laufeyson, born of a legitimate marriage, at least in Jötnar terms, between Laufey and Bergdís. So he was not a bastard. That was something. Nor had he been willingly abandoned. Another good thing. If he were more like Thor, perhaps he could make himself enjoy the fact that he had been wanted and loved by at least three parents, perhaps four if Odin did have some love for him. But Loki was not like that. He was just angry that he had been lied to, that Laufey had just assumed he was dead, that he was a frost giant at all.

_‘At least I’m half Vanir.’_

Knowing that Frost Giants could love did not instantly quell the instinctive fear and hate that he had developed over his entire lifetime. That would have to be dealt with later.

Second, he had killed his father. Loki swallowed and tucked his chin into his knees, thinking hard.

_‘I thought Laufey a monster.’_

He had wanted to prove he was not one.

It was only now he knew that perhaps Laufey had not been quite what he had thought. At the time he hadn’t known.

_‘Asgardian warriors kill monsters.’_

Laufey had been a monster at the time.

Loki, a warrior of Asgard, had killed him.

Laufey was dead. There was nothing Loki could do about it, and while his actions made him a kinslayer, only a handful knew that and fewer still knew that Loki knew that. Truthfully, Loki did not really care about Laufey, he was more concerned about his own actions. Did his act of killing Laufey mean that he was a monster, regardless of what blood he had in his veins?

_‘No.’_

Loki had killed Laufey because it was the only way to prevent war, to maintain the security of Asgard. It was a political act, a kingly act. Laufey’s feelings towards Loki did not matter.

Still, Loki wondered if Laufey had known Loki was alive… would it have made a difference over the centuries. If Loki had been raised as a fosterling, a hostage of Asgard, knowing Laufey was his father and Laufey knowing Loki was alive… what would have been different?

Well, for one, he might have had a better chance of marrying Sigyn as the Crown Prince of Jötunheim than as the second Prince of Asgard. For another, perhaps his mother would be alive if Odin had decided to take him as a guarantee of good behaviour from Jötunheim. For this reason, Loki was certain Odin did not kill his mother. It would be easy for Odin to lie to him, say that he had found him abandoned when really he had stolen him out of his mother’s arms, but Loki knew Odin was not stupid enough to kill the Queen of Jötunheim if he was willing to spare the King. So someone else had to be responsible.

_‘Tyr might know. Tyr might be the man who did it. I’ll have to find out.’_

There was another thing, Helblindi’s story of how the war came about. Loki did not believe for a moment that the Jötnar had gone to Midgard with ‘noble’ intent, but he was starting to understand that Asgard was probably not entirely innocent in the situation. Odin would fear a Jötunheim that had the power of the Casket of Ancient Winters. The truth had to be somewhere between the two tales, and Loki might be able to find it in the books Alfheim had given him. It would be of little use now to know, but it would be something for him to remember if he found the information. Anything to do with Jötunheim would have to be done with the intent of the outcome, not the memories of the past. Loki still wanted to stabilise the relationship if he could, keeping Asgard in its best place.

Quite clearly, Alfheim was having similar thoughts in regards to their place in the Nine Realms. Queen Aetril was clever to try and take advantage of the situation, Loki had to admire that. But the fact was if he married her, he would always be the younger husband, she was at least twice his age. The council would be very reluctant to agree, because while it would unite Asgard and Alfheim, it would risk putting Asgard in the secondary place. Loki was a man, but Queen Aetril was older, wiser and had ruled for so much longer.

As for Berach, Loki knew now why he had been so smug about Vanaheim when Loki had mentioned it. He had known already that he would be betrothed to Sigyn, just because he was a crown prince.

Loki’s fingers curled into fists. He was King of Asgard, and still not good enough to have Sigyn as his wife. A surge of hate for Odin flooded his stomach, because this all seemed to come back to him. As Odin’s second son, instead of Laufey’s first, Loki was not good enough for anything.

_‘Not good enough for Sigyn, not good enough for the throne, not a good enough warrior, I’m never good enough for anything! Good enough for Angrboda. Good enough to earn Sigyn’s heart. But never good enough for Asgard.’_

He uncurled and sat back into the slowly chilling water. He would find a way to make it work, he would abdicate if he had to, Asgard be damned, if that was what it took to get Sigyn. But he couldn’t do a thing until Sigyn made her move, if she made one.

In the meantime, Loki would focus on Asgard, specifically he would focus on the issue of the outlaws. During his recent roaming, he had found six gangs of outlaws in the areas around the capital city alone. Loki had always known about some of the outlaws in Asgard, they were shadows he knew he could make use of if he needed to, but the exact number had eluded him. Soon however, he would have an answer.

_‘I just have to hope Mýrkjartan was able to get the information I ordered him to get, and not get himself killed in the process.’_

Once Loki knew how many outlaws there were in the country, he would start the first phase of dealing with them. He knew he could not prevent the fate that had befallen Fásta from ever happening again unless he had every Asgardian under mind control, but he could do something about the frequency. It would be a distinctly unpopular move he was sure, but he knew he would be proven right in the end. No one would accuse him of weakness either.

_‘Old Asgard is dead, as Odin might as well be for all the good he is. If I’m to encourage trust from the other Realms, I need to show ruthlessness and a willingness to change in equal measure.’_

As he reheated the water with a spark of magic, Loki’s mind turned itself to his mother. Bergdís of Vanaheim. A powerful sorceress if she made the Casket, although Helblindi’s tale did little to tell Loki how he could remove a shard of it, but at least he had new places to look for information. But what kind of woman would go to Jötunheim willingly? What sort of person would mate with Laufey and seek to improve his power? What kind of mother held back her child’s growth by siphoning off its seiðr to make a weapon?

The danger with exposing unborn children to too much magic was not very well documented, but once Loki had returned home from Angrboda’s house, he had tried to understand why his children were the way they were. At the time he had been under the impression they were half Aesir by him and half storm giant by their mother, but as he had search the library, he came to the conclusion that it was far more complicated than that.

Seiðr was a kind of energy, which permeated the universe and every individual. If a person was born with the right set of requirements, they could harness seiðr both within and without the body and use it. It was not as rare as some might think, most beings had the basic ability to make use of seiðr, but there were not many who could harness it as true sorcerers. It took a natural ability and a lot of training, and there had been cases of people with great natural ability and no training that were driven to madness and death by the seiðr that they could use. Equally people with little natural ability and a lot of training could be very formidable and impressive, but there was always something of a disadvantage to those people.

Magical ability tended to run in families, the double helix that determined so much about a creatures’ form, skills and personality also determining magical resonance. Your blood would determine what kind of seiðr you would be good at or not. Different species tended to have particular types of seiðr they would be inclined to, and unexpected changes to the double helix in a specific individual might result in a greater breadth of ability. These people tended to be the ones who became sorcerers.

However, seiðr was not stable when held inside the body, it was almost like having a living being inside you, one with its own temperament and inclinations, and this instability was very unpredictable when it was exposed to unborn children, who were only forming. Seiðr could get inside that double helix and alter it, usually in ways that made the individual even more tolerant to wielding it. Seiðr liked to be used, liked to be manipulated and toyed with, expelled and taken in. The more ‘like’ magic someone was the better they would wield it, the more of it they could hold inside themselves. Even fully grown adults could be altered by seiðr into something else if they used it enough, Angrboda had been less of a storm giant and more of a being unto herself after all the seiðr she had used. It was so much worse for unborn children, because they could be ravaged by the seiðr as it tried to alter them into becoming a better vessel. And that was in a normal pregnancy of months.

If Helblindi was telling the truth, Loki had been in his mother’s womb for fifty-five years, and exposed to constant seiðr. He was lucky he didn’t have three heads! What had that much exposure done to him? Was that why he was so good at shape shifting? What was he really?

_‘What does this mean for my children, for my future children with Sigyn?’_

A Jötnar-Vanir offspring, exposed to seiðr for fifty-five years, a prolific magic user his entire life, all one thousand and forty-seven years of it, Loki knew there was no chance anyone else like him had existed before, so there was no way of having any information. But Loki could guess a few things.

He was a Jötnar, and he was a Vanir, but equally, he was neither. He was something else, made up of seiðr, perhaps even seiðr given an organic form. A fusion of magic and flesh that only creatures like the Norns could claim to be, with a potential that he had never realised before. No, he was not Aesir, but he was something altogether better than them. They may have been immortal, gods in the eyes of Midgardians… but Loki, if he so chose, could be a god to the Aesir. He was an amalgamation of power, the raw, pure power of Laufey as a Jötun, and heir to the skilled magic of Bergdís, fused with flesh in her womb. He had learned from the best magic users in the Nine Realms, skills of the Aesir, of Vanaheim, even from a Ljósálfar when he was young. He had hated Angrboda, but he had learned magic outside any species from her, and it had allowed him to learn even more after, pushing boundaries of his own, save for one.

One of the earliest lessons Loki had ever had as a student of seiðr had been about the Boundary, the line where magical energy of the body and the universe met, and where things were at their most basic and volatile. One of the hardest and most vital of skills to be learned when starting out was how to siphon off the seiðr and make use of it. By now, Loki was adept at taking as much energy as he wanted from this barrier, but he had always wondered what would happen if he actually tried to pick apart the barrier. Few people had ever attempted it, and apparently they had all died, or gone mad in the attempt. Most never needed to try, being able to access the energy was enough. 

Loki had always wanted to try, but he had never had a good enough reason to do it, not when it could kill him. If he got himself killed in an experiment, Sigyn would bring him back just to kill him again. Now, he bit on his thumb, wondering.

_‘I could become the most powerful being in the universe… if I’m right that is, and I know I am. If my seiðr can make something as powerful as the Casket when I was nothing but an unformed babe…’_

As his mind travelled back to the Casket, he considered the possibility that maybe the Boundary was connected to the Casket. If Bergdís had used Loki to make it, and yet somehow the Casket was able to unite all the Frost Giants, there had to be a link between them.

For a moment, Loki considered confessing all to Kvasir, after all, the man was a skilled sorcerer in his own right and he might be able to help Loki figure out the Casket, if it would even be possible to take a shard of it. Truthfully Loki had been thinking on his feet when he had said it, but maybe he could fashion something like the Casket. Knowing what he did now, he felt he understood even less what the Casket was. It was made from him in some way, it was connected to the Jötnar and to the planet in some way… how did it all fit?

Idly, Loki lifted his hand out of the water and lit a handful of flames, watching as he made them change from yellow to green to blue to purple. Loki loved fire, it was his favourite of the elements. The warmth, the chaos, the usefulness, the energy, and he had always had a knack for controlling it, a fact which now lent itself to the idea that he was more than a half Jötun, otherwise surely he would have more of an inclination to water and ice.

A faint smirk pulled across his face as he lowered his hand back into the water, and the flames kept rippling, undisturbed by its nemesis around it. Loki propped his head up with his other hand and watched it. An impossible thing made possible.

Gleipnir, the ribbon that bound Fenrir, was made of impossible things, crafted by the Dvergar to be unbreakable. It was made of the sound of a cat’s walk, the beard of a woman, the roots of a mountain, the sinews of a bear, the breath of a fish and the spittle of a bird. Loki had never been able to break it, and as Fenrir had gotten older, he had become less determined to try.

_‘How do you break something made of impossible things anyway?’_

His smirk fell away and he extinguished the flames as he realised he might have been right in the argument, but so had Sigyn. He had been a coward about his children, for years he had wept and bitterly resented, but never had he actually tried to fix things.

Jörmungandr had been born during a terrible storm, with thunder and lightning so deafening and bright it seemed to be happening right outside the window.

_‘My first-born, my grey-eyed boy… will you ever look upon me with love again? Will you ever understand why I had to do what I did.’_

Angrboda had been calm, Loki had been terrified. When Jörmungandr had finally slid into Loki’s hands, after several hours of struggling from Angrboda’s womb, Loki had gaped at him. Jörmungandr had been completely hairless when he was born, but otherwise he had looked like a normal Aesir baby. Although Loki had reached an exhausted detachment from Angrboda by then, he had fallen in love with Jörmungandr, holding the baby in his arms and refusing to let his mother touch him. Jörmungandr liked to sleep in his serpent form, and when he woke he would become Aesir again. Loki, being so young, had no idea what to do with him, how to care for him or raise him, but he had been so proud when Jörmungandr took his first steps, spoke his first words, although he had a strange hissing voice. It was hard to raise a boy in a single large room with no fresh air, but Loki had no choice, and with Jörmungandr, it had been somewhat more bearable.

After Odin had rescued them, Jörmungandr had retreated into his serpent form, his five year old mind unable to cope with the memory of what his father had done to his mother. Whatever else, Angrboda had been a good mother, although Loki had always suspected she was more fascinated by the experiment that was Jörmungandr than loving him as a son. Loki had been too distraught, too shaken and too sick with what had turned out to be Fenrir to care for Jörmungandr or Hel, and although Odin and Frigga had tried to be kind to him, Jörmungandr refused to leave his serpent form.

Loki was not sure what had happened exactly, he had been delirious for months after coming home, sick with Angrboda’s seiðr and Fenrir growing inside him. Odin had explained, in surprisingly gently tones, that he had managed to communicate with Jörmungandr enough to understand that the boy had retreated too much into his serpent form, and could not emerge. All Jörmungandr wanted was a place to live and feed. Odin had thought about Asgard, but had somehow determined just how big Jörmungandr would become and knew Asgard would not be safe for him –some idiot like Thor would see the giant serpent as a challenge. Midgard was the best choice at the time, and remained so, since their oceans were deep and full of food. Loki had gone looking for him a few times centuries ago, but had never been able to find him. He eventually got the message, Jörmungandr would never forgive him for what he had done.

Hel had been a shock to both Loki and Angrboda, with one half of her perfect and plump, like a baby should be, the other side had been grey and mottled, rotting away.

_‘Hel looked so like her mother it hurt… but I could not hate her, not when she needed me.’_

She had cried constantly, and nothing either parent did could soothe her. It had been her pain that had driven Loki to the edge long enough to finally find the courage to kill Angrboda. When Odin had burst through the door of Loki’s prison, his children’s home, he had been confronted by a frantic, half-crazed Loki with blood dripping from his mouth thrusting a baby into his arms and begging him to make her well.

Odin had done as he had asked, but Loki had been in no state to understand at the time. Sending Hel to Niflheim had been to save her, because time was not something that worked the same there as anywhere else. Once something was in Niflheim, it had always been there and always would be, their presence spreading like a ripple through time in that realm in all directions.

Loki had always wondered where the Queen of Niflheim had come from, and then one day he had realised he had made her.

Hel had been saved by Niflheim, and with Odin’s seiðr, she had grown into an adult, ruling the dead for all eternity before and since, but Loki had never seen her. There was nothing stopping him but his own reluctance to face his daughter, face the failings he had committed upon her. He knew once he saw her he would have no idea what to say or do, and Loki hated that idea. He would be defenceless, helpless before his own daughter and that was not what a parent was meant to be.

However it was Fenrir most of all, that Loki had failed. The tiny boy, the even smaller puppy, trembling and needy and Loki had not fought Odin in this decision. Odin had been told of the prophecy, been warned that Fenrir would kill him as soon as he grew teeth and swallow the sun, and Odin had taken steps to prevent it. Fenrir had been collared and bound, trapped in his wolf form, unable to stand, unable to do anything more than whimper and nuzzle pleadingly for food.

Now, Fenrir was big enough to fill the golden hall, but he was still helpless, his legs shrivelled from lack of use. And Loki had let it happen.

_‘Fenrir, you did nothing to deserve such a terrible fate. Truly you would have been better off dead.’_

Shame burned inside Loki as he realised that he was a much larger failure as a father than Odin or Laufey ever would be. No, he was a failure as a mother. Sigyn was Fenrir’s father, she had watched over him in those early months and years, she had shifted into the form of a wolf-bitch with heavy teats for Fenrir to suckle. She had cleaned his wounds with her tongue as Gleipnir cut into delicate flesh.

A sob cut into his throat and Loki covered his eyes, curling up once more. He had failed his children, abandoned them because he could not handle the memories, the shame of failing Odin. He was a shame, not because he had made these children, or wasn’t a good enough son for the Allfather, but because he had failed in his duties as a parent.

No, he would not let this stand.

_‘My children are great and powerful and feared. Imagine what they could become if I just offered them my support, if I could liberate Fenrir he could be magnificent. If I could earn Jörmungandr’s forgiveness, I know he would stun the Nine Realms with his power, simmering under his skin when he was a baby. If I could make amends with Hel for my failings…’_

Loki finally pulled himself out of the water and let it drain away. He dried himself off and dressed in simple clothing, a new sense of purpose filling him. He would not continue to fail his children, he would make things right.

He would start with Fenrir. Prophecy be damned, he would not let his son continue in this way. Prophecies could be beaten by gods, he knew it, if he only looked for the answer. 

“I don’t care if he kills you Odin,” he murmured, pulling on his gloves, “My son is more important than you ever will be. And I shall spend the rest of my life making amends for not realising it.”

With a tug of seiðr, he ripped open a path to Fenrir and stepped through.  


	29. Out of the Equation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki goes to visit his son, but nothing goes the way he intended, and Asgard may once more be without a king. Meanwhile, Sigyn wonders when her life became all about Loki and not about herself.

The lake of Amsvartnir was a stagnant waste, with a single island in the centre, Lyngvi. It was here that Fenrir was bound, alone and isolated from the rest of Asgard. No one dared go near the water of this lake, it was unclean and full of dangerous monsters, like Nökken which sought to lure innocent children to watery and bloody deaths. Yet none of the monsters would go near the island, out of fear of Fenrir and his huge jaws.

Loki slipped through the open wound he had ripped into space –he would fix it later –and found himself on the edge of the island, with his face pressed against a huge mound of fur. It reeked of faeces, salt, blood and infection. His toes skimmed the water as he pushed away from the warm mound, which he realised was Fenrir’s bent and twisted upper leg, and looked up. Fenrir was like a mountain of fur, his breathing loud and rattling as his flesh pressed against Gleipnir every time he inhaled.

“My boy…” Loki sighed, burying his face back into the fur as he curled his fingers around the fur. Fenrir let out a low, threatening growl and twitched, hard. The strength was enough to knock Loki back, and he teetered on the edge of the sand, arms out to keep his balance. If he fell into the water he would be set upon by every foul creature that lived in it.

As he fell back Loki quickly pulled on his seiðr and forced his shape to change into that of a small bird. He flapped his wings frantically and managed to hover above the scummy water. With a squawk of effort, he heaved his wings and rose up into the air. He soared up and up until he could see the whole island hidden beneath Fenrir’s bulk. The massive wolf barely stirred as he lay where he was, growling and wheezing, the golden shine of Gleipnir catching in the hazy sunlight with every breath. Loki dived down and landed on Fenrir’s haunches, so lightly Fenrir did not notice. Turning his bird head, he brought an eye close to the ribbon. It was barely the width of his thumb, and gave the illusion of being made of something like liquid silk. Yet when Loki pulled on it with his beak, it was like biting down on solid metal. Loki let go and pondered what to do next. Breaking Gleipnir would take a lot of thought, he could not just untie it, once it had been wrapped around Fenrir, it had fused together, binding into the rock it had been attached to. It also grew to accommodate its contents. It had been about as long as Loki’s arm span at the beginning. Now it was tens of times longer.

However, Gleipnir was not the only issue.

Loki stepped over Fenrir’s back towards his neck. There rested a heavy collar made of steel, covered in runes, including the symbol of Odin. The seiðr emanated from it like a bad odour, and it had always made Loki and Sigyn ill after too much exposure to it. Made by Brokkr the Dvergar, who had also made Mjölnir, it was designed as extra safety, keeping Fenrir from reaching his full strength, in case he somehow became stronger than Gleipnir could stand.

Loki eyed the collar for a long time, hating it and pondering it. Would he have to leave it on? He had no idea how to free Fenrir and rehabilitate him. Was there anything left of the baby he had birthed inside this massive beast?

Loki slid down Fenrir’s shoulder, shifting back to his Aesir (Vanir?) form. It had been so long since he had seen Fenrir, and he felt ashamed for his abandonment of his child. It did not quell his nerves as he eyed the massive jaws Fenrir now had. Loki’s abiding memory of Fenrir was as a tiny puppy, wrapping his toothless gums around Loki’s finger, little pink tongue lapping at the pad in the hope of food. Now, three Thor’s could fit quite comfortably in his mouth, which hung open, saliva running into the lake and a huge red tongue lolling out as Fenrir panted. 

Tentatively, Loki reached out and touched the huge, cool nose.

“Fenrir…”

Fenrir let out a loud snarl and his whole body twisted under Gleipnir’s grip. His head snapped up and the next thing Loki knew was blinding pain as Fenrir’s jaws snapped shut around his arm. Loki thrashed in a blind panic as the teeth pierced his flesh, his muscle, and then his bone, shattering it. Loki shrieked and tried to pull free –and then felt like a hook had wrapped around his gut and tugged hard. The pain rendered him blind and deaf as he was pulled away from Fenrir, and he felt his whole body twisting and shifting like clay being moulded by cruel hands, floating in an ether he could not see, or smell or feel. The pain was no longer _in_ his arm, it was inside _him_ , he no longer had a body. But he was still screaming.

The hook around him pulled harder and harder, and he started to sink, deeper and deeper into the ether of blackness, suffocating and airless, crushing and pulling apart again and again until finally the Vanir-Jötun being known as Loki ceased to exist.

**~*~**

Heimdall knew he would have to keep a very close eye on Loki now that the young king knew of his mother’s race. Loki was prone to fits of rage and passion that made him incapable of rational thought. Heimdall knew he was planning something drastic for the outlaws, he had watched him send Mýrkjartan off to scout the numbers, but the trouble with Loki was he never gave away his plans. He kept them to himself, and whatever else Heimdall was, he was not a mind reader. So he could only watch and hope Loki would not shield himself from Heimdall’s gaze so he could keep an eye on him. Of course, there was very little he could do, he could not report to Odin what Loki was doing, as he had when Loki had vanished as a youth, or when Loki had fled the palace to birth Fenrir. Loki was king now, there was really only the council and his mother who could influence him –and his wife in secret.

So when Loki ran off on Sleipnir and slept on the ground, Heimdall watched him, obeying his duty and his princess. He found himself feeling a small measure of pity for the young man, watching his fitful sleep. When he returned home and disappeared into his bedchambers, Heimdall lost his sight of him. Clearly the king’s bedchambers were enchanted to avoid Heimdall’s gaze. Heimdall opened his gaze to sense when Loki moved as he resumed his usual duty.  

Then Loki was slipping through space and Heimdall quickly directed his gaze to the wayward king, alarmed when he emerged next to Fenrir. It had been many years since Loki had visited his son. Any curiosity about what Loki was doing there vanished into a shock that he had not felt in centuries when Fenrir bit down on Loki’s arm, tearing it off, and the next thing he knew Loki was gone. Not just invisible, Heimdall could not sense him at all. Even when Loki hid himself, Heimdall had always been able to sense him existing in the universe, which was why he had missed Loki being able to hide from him. If Loki had disappeared from the universe, Heimdall would have noticed at once.

Certain he was mistaken, Heimdall pushed his gaze wider to peer beyond the usual wards that took a lot of his energy to see within, trying to find him. But there was nothing.

Loki did not exist.

Heimdall quickly sheathed his sword across his back and turned away from his post. He held up his hand and conjured a ball of blue light.

“I call upon the king’s lendmenn and My Lady’s the King’s Mother to gather in the State Chamber at once, it is a matter of great urgency.”

The blue ball shimmered and split into nine balls, shooting towards the palace. Heimdall grabbed the horse that was always ready for him, and set off across the Bifrost. People looked at him as he strode through the city, alarmed by his presence, but all Heimdall focused on was trying to find Loki, hoping the King had appeared again, but by the time he had arrived at the palace Loki was still completely absent. He drove the horse into the palace itself and rode all the way through to the State Wing. As he arrived at the door, Frigga came running up to him.

“Heimdall what’s happened? Why did you call for me and the advisors, but not my son?”

Heimdall swung off the horse and knelt before Frigga.

“My Lady, I fear something has happened to your son that I have never experienced before. I must speak with the advisors.”

“What’s happened to Loki? Is he in danger?” Frigga asked desperately.

Before Heimdall could answer, Kvasir and Sverrir came running up, followed by Tyr and Forseti.

“The king is in danger?” Sverrir asked in alarm.

Heimdall straightened up and walked into the State Chamber without looking back, knowing they would all follow. In less than a minute the lendmenn had all arrived, Lady Frigga was composing herself, despite her panic, and Heimdall turned to them all.

“Moments ago, King Loki vanished from my sense. I cannot see, or sense him in the whole universe. I do not know why this has happened, or if he can come back.”

There was silence for a moment as the advisors took this in, paling as one.

“Wh-what do you mean you cannot see him?” Sverrir asked him.

Heimdall folded his hands in front of his belt, regarding the youngest member of the council. “I mean that as far as I can see or otherwise determine the king no longer exists.”

Frigga covered her mouth with her hand and sank down into the nearest chair.

“How do you just stop existing?” demanded Tyr furiously. “How did this happen?”

“For reasons I do not understand, the king went to the island of Lyngvi.”

Frigga’s head snapped up, eyes widening in some understanding.

“The island of Fenrir? Why?” asked Hoder

“I do not know,” answered Heimdall honestly, “However what I saw was the wolf bite upon the king’s arm… ripping it off.”

“Oh Loki!” Frigga murmured.

“I saw the king pull away and the next thing I saw he had vanished, and I could no longer sense his existence at all. I am still searching for him, but so far he has not reappeared.”

“Well maybe he’s just hiding, he’s so skilled in seiðr,” said Sverrir urgently.

“If Loki were to hide from my gaze, he would do so in a manner that would allow me to suspect nothing. I have always been able to sense the king’s presence, save when he disappeared when he was nineteen. I must turn my gaze upon something to see it, but I can tell when someone is no longer there.”

“But if he disappeared before like this, even if it was centuries ago, could it be that again?” asked Forseti.

Heimdall shook his head, “No, it’s not the same. I could not see him, and I could not find him, but I was certain he was alive. This time… he simply does not exist.”

“So what do we do?” demanded Bragi, resting his hand on Frigga’s shoulder in comfort.

“I am uncertain,” Heimdall answered truthfully.

“He lost an arm and just vanished?” Sverrir said faintly, looking ill. Heimdall nodded. “Father… can you scry for him?”

Kvasir’s face was full of doubt, he knew that if Heimdall could not see Loki, then it was unlikely that he could find him. He said,

“I will try. Perhaps he has slipped into a part of the universe that Heimdall’s gaze does not lie. After all, you can see far, but there are some places your gaze cannot fall.”

Heimdall nodded as Kvasir moved away to start scrying, “I see the tangible, but find it harder to see into the deeper fabrics.”

“Could Loki have retreated into another dimension, one we cannot perceive?” Frigga asked, rising to her feet.

“But why would he do that when his arm has been ripped off?” asked Forseti bluntly. Sverrir groaned faintly, looking ill at the idea. Frigga paled, but maintained her composure, saying quietly.

“He may have tried to return to Asgard for help, but got caught in between spaces and carried away.”

“If he was carried away… can he find his way back?” asked Sverrir hopefully.

“It depends on where he went and how strong he is considering his injury,” said Kvasir.

Sverrir’s face fell and he looked at Frigga, “So… does that mean he might…”

Frigga inhaled sharply and pressed her fingers to her mouth, shaking her head, “No.” she declared, her voice thick. “No, Loki is strong. He will find a way back, no matter what.”

“I agree!” Sverrir said quickly, looking relieved, “He’ll be back, he’ll be fine.”

“And until then… what do we do?” asked Hoder shortly, his face drawn into a scowl. “What do we tell the court? The people?”

“We… say nothing for the moment.” said Frigga, “If Loki is gone, then I am regent until his return and I say we keep this quiet. We must give Loki a chance to come back to us, because when he does, he would not be happy if we had distressed the people needlessly.”

“Yes majesty,” the men murmured.

“Heimdall,” Frigga looked at him and he knelt at once to her, “You will scan the universe for my son, and do not rest until you find him.”

“Yes majesty.” Heimdall bowed his head, his gaze already stretching out as far as he could.

“Kvasir, you do whatever you can to find him as well.”

“Yes majesty.”

“But what was the King doing on Lyngvi? Why did he go near Fenrir?” Sverrir asked.

“That will be determined when he is home,” said Frigga shortly.

No one dared doubt the certainty in her voice.

**~*~**

Sigyn emerged from the mirror into her bedchamber, shaking with rage and burning with a deeply unwelcome sense of shame.

Loki had called her a coward.

How dare he? He was her husband! He had no right to call her a coward.

And yet… why couldn’t Sigyn fight her parents the way Loki fought everyone around him? Even on something that mattered more to her than anything else? She wanted to be queen of Asgard, more importantly, she wanted to be Loki’s wife. Not Thor’s, not Berach’s, but Loki’s.

Was Loki right? Did she keep waiting for him to fix things when she should be doing it herself? After all, she was a Crown Princess, expected to become a ruler and make important decisions. She was not just expected to sit and look pretty as a queen. She was meant to be a monarch, and even with Loki as her consort, her duty was to be the monarch of her people. She was to lead them, not leave it to whomever she married.

When she had been a younger girl, Sigyn had applied herself to all the politics she could learn and practise, taking careful time to learn how each of the Nine Realms functioned under law and custom so she could interact with everyone as best as she could. She knew the laws of Vanaheim like she knew the planes of Loki’s body –possibly because she had spent a delightful night writing every law on his white skin. As a girl, Sigyn had looked forward to becoming an adult, becoming queen, but as the years, decades and then centuries passed, Sigyn had found herself stuck in the same routine for everything, over and over again. Eventually she had lost interest in trying. The only thing that held her attention now was Loki.

As she sat down on her bed, Sigyn wondered when she had become so acquiescent. It must have happened gradually, without her or Loki noticing.

Sigyn had never wanted to be a detached, careless ruler, she had never wanted to be a submissive person, just quietly accepting whatever was done to her. She had wanted freedom, choice, to be who she was. It was why she had fallen in love with Loki, he demanded it of her, if she tried to hide behind airs and lessons, he would quickly tear them away from her.

Sigyn wished she had not said such terrible things about Loki and his children, even if the thoughts had crossed her mind before. She had always wanted to do something about Loki and his children, especially Fenrir, her poor baby. The memory of them made Loki so miserable, and Sigyn wished she could fix it for him. However, she knew that now was not the time for Loki to go off on a self-appointed mission to make peace and save his children, he could do it when he had the kingdom under a more stable control. He could do it when they were married and she could help support him.

A bird called outside her window and she looked up. The curtains were drawn, as usual once she had been put to bed.

Something not unlike excitement stirred in her stomach as a thought formed in her mind. Glancing at her door, knowing the Svana and Ey would be walking in at any moment, Sigyn made a decision. She rose to her feet and pulled at the straps of her pink nightdress, dropping it down to the floor. Stepping out of it, she walked across her room, and pulled aside the curtains. It was not quite sunrise yet, but the blackness of light had faded, and no lights of lamps had yet been lit in the city below. Everything looked like it was shaded blue or purple, even the grass.

A soft wind blew and Sigyn shivered as it brushed over her bare skin, catching her short hair and pulling it across her face. Inhaling, she let go of the curtain and stepped out onto the balcony, reaching out and resting her forearms on the stone rail.

When was the last time she had done this? It must have been centuries ago. Sigyn used to love the feel of Vanaheim’s air on her bare skin, as she stood above her city and contemplated her future, how she would rule the people who slept below her, how she would build new buildings, or improve new ones. How she would one day be on this balcony with Loki, both of them naked as the day they were born, full of love and lust. Swallowing, Sigyn rubbed her thumb over her lower lip, eyes stinging with tears. Somewhere along the path of her life, she had stopped living and started existing, only really coming to life again when she was with Loki.

With a quick movement, Sigyn threw her legs over the balcony and sat on the cold stone legs dangling down above a huge drop. The only drop further than the one she currently hung above was the drop off the edge of the Bifrost into the void of space. As Sigyn stared down into it, pointing her feet and wiggling her toes, she found herself wondering something that she had never wanted to ask herself before.

When had her whole world become about Loki?

It was one thing to love Loki, love him completely and utterly as she did, but it was another for her every second though to come back to him.

What was Loki doing right now? Was he happy or in a huff? Had he fought with Thor again? Had he perfected that spell he had written to her about? Had he read her last letter? Why hadn’t he replied yet? When would she see him again? Would he be in the mood for the same kind of sex as her?

Sigyn shook her head and pushed her fingers through her hair.

Years ago, to help her social skills, Sigyn had spent time with the children of the nobility, people her own age that were normal. At the time so many of the girls had been obsessed with husbands, men, flirtations and analysing everything about them to death. Sigyn had enjoyed it… for a few hours. It had been new, different, even fun for a while. But when it became the only topic every time she had lost interest, swearing she would never become that fixated on Loki.

And yet it had happened.

Sigyn knew why, she wasn’t stupid. At some stage, probably as she had lost interest in her surroundings, Loki had become the only thing that made her happy anymore. He challenged her, he knew her better than anyone and still worshiped her, he expected things from her without being offended or disappointed if she failed. He respected her, he loved her, he filled her with passion, lust, joy and love every time he touched her, he was loyal to her in a way that was not expected of Asgardian men. Even when they fought, she just wanted to end the argument so they could go back to being happy. She never felt angry enough that she never wanted to see him again.

Well… there had been one time, but she had only felt it for a short while, and had spent five years regretting it.

The sun was rising far away, coming up over the plains of the city, the yellow light warming her skin, and Sigyn wondered what she should do now.

Should she just tell her parents that she would not marry anyone but Loki? Or should she be more subtle?

“Sigyn!”

Sigyn jumped as Svana Ein called her. She had been so engrossed in her own thoughts she had not heard anyone come in.

“Come off that balcony! What if you were to fall?”

Sigyn sighed, swinging off the balcony and walking over to her. Svana Ein regarded her nakedness with exasperation and shook her head,

“I see we’re back to old habits.”

“I see you’ve quite a cheek on you for someone who is meant to be my attendant and nothing more,” snapped Sigyn in irritation. Much to her satisfaction Svana Ein looked startled for a split second before regaining her composure.

“Your mother sent word. Prince Berach is coming to court you today, and she wants you dressed appropriately.”

“Does that mean you’ll leave me naked, or covered up from neck to toe?” asked Sigyn irritably, while inside she was panicking. She needed more time to figure out what she was going to do.

Svana Þrír appeared in front of her, a white dress draped over her arms, “Nothing of the sort. This is the perfect dress to meet your husband to be.”

Sigyn looked down at the dress and snorted, “I don’t like that dress. I’ll pick a different one.”

“This is the dress you will wear today,” said Svana Ein, waving a hand to direct the Ey to guide Sigyn to the bathing chamber. Sigyn glared at her.

“I don’t like that dress, I want to wear something else,” said Sigyn.

“Sigyn, do not argue. This is the dress you will wear,” said Svana Ein.

The utter calm of her tone, the absolute certainty that she would be obeyed was intolerable. It was the same tone she had used on Sigyn when she wouldn’t let her play hide and seek instead of sewing. It was the same tone when she told Sigyn to stay away from other children in case they ripped her dress.

“I won’t wear it,” said Sigyn, feeling her hands start to shake.

“You must, today is the day you wear white, and this is the dress that was prepared for you,” said Svana Ein.

“I won’t wear it!”

“Why are you acting like a child?” asked Svana Ein, resting her hands on her hips.

“Why are you treating me like one? I don’t need you to pick my clothes, my food, when I eat, where I go, I am capable of making these decisions myself, but you never let me! You even have the others clean my backside like an infant!”

“Sigyn, that’s enough, we don’t have time for a tantrum.” Svana Ein waved her hand at the Ey, “Bathe the princess and dress her, as proper.”   

The Ey hesitated, looking from the Svana to Sigyn, Ey Fyrstr starting to frown. Their hesitation gave Sigyn a chance to move,

“I won’t do this anymore, I can’t do this!” She turned away and grabbing her silk robe. She pulled it on and strode out of her bed chambers, her ears burning hot as she refused to look back. She would talk to her mother and father now, make her desires clear and show herself to be determined to get her way. They had to listen to her, they just had to. She would make them listen to her. How could she ever be a true queen, a monarch worthy of Vanaheim, if she was not even able to reason with her parents?

Sigyn would make Loki proud of her, she would make their marriage real, she would show him she was no coward, and spend the next year making him apologise for calling her that in every pleasurable way she could think of.

She owed it to him, to herself and to their marriage.


	30. A Mother Knows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frigga discovers that she doesn't know Loki as well as she thinks when she finds his secrets in his bed chambers, while Sigyn learns her mother knows more about her than she realised, as Skadi pulls the world from under her feet.

Frigga knew Loki hated anyone going into his chambers without his express invitation, but she could go nowhere else at this moment. She could feel the einherjar watching her as she first check his study. It was in astonishing disarray, with books on every available surface, including the floor, bits of paper stuck on the walls full of notes, drawings, a huge map of the Nine Realms dominating everything else. Loki had stuck bits of information beside each realm, the names of the rulers, the kind of legal systems they used, the type of agriculture they had, what their strengths and weaknesses were.

It was like getting a glimpse into Loki’s mind, seeing the organised chaos of its workings. Frigga sat down at his desk and stared up at the map, trying to get a sense of why Loki had picked this moment to approach Fenrir after so long.

Frigga was a practical woman in many ways, aware that as regent, she now had to make sure Asgard did not fall, but her mother’s heart refused to accept the idea that Loki might not come back. It was bad enough that Thor was cut off from her, but to lose Loki too would break her heart.

Loki was too clever, too stubborn, to just be gone. He would return, probably in some blaze of glory. It wouldn’t be like the first time.

Frigga ran her hand over the desk, ink stained from centuries of work. The memory of Loki’s little hands curling around a pen for the first time came back to her and she smiled as she recalled how his tongue had poked out the corner of his mouth in his concentration as he learned to spell his own name.

Frigga rose to her feet and walked across the corridor, through the antechamber, heading for the bedchambers. She knew if she went inside, she would be violating Loki’s privacy in a way he would not forgive easily, but it seemed worthwhile if she could gain an understanding of Loki’s mind. Once Frigga had known Loki’s mind well, been able to read his face, his thoughts from his eyes. Once she had been able to see the way he blushed at the mention of Princess Sigyn, the way his eyes glittered with determination if someone said something was impossible. Now he kept all his thoughts and feelings locked away inside where no one could touch them.

Frigga reached her hand out to touch the door, hesitating once more. Then she drew herself up and pushed inside.

Loki’s bedchamber was bright and warm, with colours of blue and green being the main scheme. Loki’s bed looked inviting, soft furs and comfy pillows. Despite his terrible sleeping habits, Loki did love his bed once he was in it. He always had.

It had been centuries since Frigga had last been in this room. Not since Fenrir had been born. Loki had broken down in her arms after Odin brought him home, sobbing about how perfect the babe was, how he was not a threat to anyone. Hiding his face in her skirts he had begged her to make Odin reconsider. Fever-wracked he had babbled about tiny fingers and toes, and Frigga’s heart had broken for her son.

But there had been nothing any of them could do. Fenrir was condemned by his fate, nothing they did could change that.

Frigga had practically slept in this room with Loki for two weeks after that, trying to ease his heart. Unfortunately, Loki seemed to decide the best thing for him to do was to close off his heart to everyone and guard it ferociously. Only children brought out a sense of affection and love that Loki was in any way free with, and only Frigga seemed to see the brittleness of Loki’s smiles as he played games with them. So many of the trinkets she remembered were gone, replaced with strange new objects. Two paintings, one of a high view of a city, the other of a man and a woman in strange clothing, hung on the walls.

All of this crossed her mind as she entered the room, almost distracting her from her original reason for walking in here. Walking forward, Frigga curled a hand around a bedpost and crouched down. There was a secret compartment in this bed that Loki thought no one knew about, or at least he had believed that as a boy since it was where he would hide his gifts for people in there until the appropriate day. Although Loki was much more clever and secretive now, sometimes old habits could not die. The compartment slid out of the bed frame and Frigga stared at the contents in wonder.

Letters, hundreds of them, maybe thousands, were stuffed in the box, which Loki had enchanted to be bigger on the inside to hold all the contents. The letters were tied into bundles, with small tags identifying a year. Picking at one tag, Frigga realised some of these letters were from Loki’s earliest days. All of them had the same distinctive paper, light blue with a silver shine. Only one person wrote to Loki on such paper.

Princess Sigyn.

Loki had saved all her letters to him. Frigga smiled, surprised at just how many there were. They must have written to each other almost every day for most of their lives. Indeed when Frigga examined the tags more closely, the only break she could find in the years was the near six when Loki had been missing.

Although she was desperately curious, Frigga did not dare try to read any of these letters, Loki would notice if they were out of place. Still she could see by the care and order Loki had taken with the letter the depth of his feelings for the princess. It confirmed the suspicions she had always had about Loki’s feelings for Sigyn, that they ran far deeper than he would ever admit. And if these were all her letters, then perhaps those feelings were reciprocated as much as she had suspected.

Frigga knew she had disturbed them when she came upon them in her library. Oh they were very convincing in their act, but they could not hide everything, like the slight swelling of Sigyn’s lips, or the faint blush on Loki’s cheeks.

It should have worried Frigga that the two had been kissing, because Vanaheim would disapprove if it was discovered, but really, she had thought it sweet. If only Loki could find it in himself to act on his own wants sometimes, rather than waiting for an advisor to bring it up. Frigga knew Loki worried about rumours and accusations, suggestions that now he had taken his brother’s rightful throne, he was going after Thor’s rightful bride. But that would happen if he waited a hundred years, people loved to speculate and gossip, to imagine a scandal was going on in the highest reaches of society. It was something he was just going to have to learn to deal with. Odin had learned, and so could Loki.

Frigga sighed and looked up. Her eyes fell on the painting, with the blonde man, looking rather effeminate with tumbling curls, tight socks and trouser, and a large ruffled jacket. He stood with a hand on his hip, the other holding a scroll, next to the woman sitting demurely next to him. She was in a rich blue dress with red trimming. She was serene and beautiful, with rich black hair and a hand rested on her ample bosom in a subtle tease. Although they did not look at each other, they leaned towards each other and the woman’s hand was extended lazily towards the man

They both had serene, secretive smiles, as if they knew something Frigga did not. Frigga looked away.

There was a box in the compartment, nestled amongst the letters. It was plain, simple in its design, made of wood from the Vanirian Honeysuckle Tree. Frigga reached out and lifted the lid, half expecting to find trinkets, things that Loki associated with Sigyn, maybe something she had left behind on a visit that he had kept. There were a few of them, but there was also pictures, of a kind Frigga did not recognise. Perfect reflections of real life, shiny, they would have intrigued her more if the images they showed had not stunned her.

Loki and Sigyn kissing, sepia-toned and dressed in strange clothing Frigga had never seen. Another of Loki with his arms around Sigyn from behind, his smile brighter than Frigga could remember seeing. Sigyn’s expression relaxed and content, not a sign of nerves or tension in her face, her lips painted a dark colour.

A piece of yellowing paper almost ripped as she lifted it. It was covered in printed words, surrounding a picture of Loki and Sigyn, standing with a man who held a shield with stars and stripes on it. Using the Alltongue, Frigga read the words _“Captain America presents prize to Jitterbug Champions for Charity”._

Below the picture of the three there was an elaboration.

_“Captain America attended the Savoy’s Charity Dance Competition yesterday, to continue his campaign of promoting War Bonds. With a $5 entry fee, only the spiffiest of New York’s population could attend. After a three course dinner and a show by Captain America himself, the contest began, the objective being the couple who could dance the longest without break, and maintaining a high standard of skill, would be the victors._

_Captain Luke Skywalker, 3 rd Division, and his new wife, Siri, were the ultimate champions, lasting twenty-three minutes, only stopping when the band had to take a break. _

_‘When your partner is as radiant as my bride here, you could dance all night.’ the Captain said, arm around his new wife. The couple had married earlier that day, in a small ceremony, unwilling to wait until the end of the war._

_‘I felt like I would be waiting forever if we didn’t do it today.’ Mrs Skywalker said, beaming. ‘There’s always something in the way, but if you love each other completely, none of it matters.’_

_‘Well, none of us know when we will get a true chance at happiness. I’ve never wanted anyone else, so what the heck was I waiting for?’ Captain Skywalker laughed._

_‘If you want something bad enough, you should go for it.’ said Captain America, ‘I don’t believe in not doing something because it’s difficult.’_

_Wise words indeed Captain.”_

Frigga stared at the picture for a long moment, then picked up the one of the others. Loki’s dark hair contrasted with Sigyn’s pale locks beautifully… they were a beautiful couple. How could anyone think Thor suited her better?

Frigga’s breath caught and she looked up at the painting again, at those secretive smiles. The woman’s angular face, the man’s amber eyes…

It was Sigyn and Loki, husband and wife, but switched, Loki the woman and Sigyn the man.

How long had they been doing this?

What had they done? Running off to Midgard to elope? It would be a diplomatic disaster if anyone ever found out about this. The scandal of the King of Asgard, once second son of Odin, running off with the Crown Princess of Vanaheim to get married, Vanaheim would be outraged. However, in that moment, Frigga the Queen was overwhelmed by Frigga the Mother. The mother whose heart broke at the realisation that her son had kept this secret from her, had not trusted her enough to tell her he loved Sigyn, to even consider coming to her and Odin to ask for their help.

Frigga knew that she and Odin had failed Loki in ways, she could see it in his pained expression when he spoke of Odin, she felt it when she thought about Loki and his children, in the way that they had not done more to prevent Loki hating his own kind, that they had kept that hidden for so long. But to think he had basically been living a secret life, keeping it from them… why? Was it fear, or was it selfish possessiveness. Both were likely knowing Loki, he did not share well with things he held dear, and he certainly wouldn’t risk losing it if he thought it would be taken away if discovered.

Frigga set the pictures away in their box, and pulled out a small pendant made of silver and blue gemstones, with Sigyn’s royal symbol on the front. Opening it, Frigga found a lock of cream coloured hair. She found crystals that held lingering seiðr, sketches of the princess by Loki’s hand, some of which Frigga certainly shouldn’t have been privy to and quickly put back. She had to remind herself she was violating something deeply personal and despite her own hurt feelings, she was doing a terrible thing to Loki by going through them. Quickly replacing the lid of the box, Frigga pushed the compartment back where it belonged and quickly got to her feet. She had come here to seek an insight into Loki’s mind, and she had gotten that. It just had not been helpful in finding him now.

_Oh my boy… how do you always manage to get yourself into so much trouble?_

**~*~**

Sigyn found her mother out in the exercise arena of the palace. Skadi always rose early to stretch and run to ready herself for the day. Once, Sigyn had joined her every day, finding it the only time she felt she had a mother and not a queen next to her. But as Loki had become more important to her and he murmured in her ear about loving the softness of women, Sigyn had neglected her training, wanting to stay soft and inviting, not hard like Sif. Now that she considered it, she wrinkled her nose in distaste. She had enjoyed her training, learning skills that would make her a good general for war, if she should ever need it, gaining quick reflexes and the rush of victory when she won. Loki might have preferred to use words, but until recently he had never neglected his own training. Why had she?

Sigyn shook her head, trying to clear it of thoughts of Loki, not liking how it was so reflexive now to think of him, almost before herself.

“You look like someone has put worms in your porridge Sigyn.” said Skadi, regarding her upside down as she stood on her hands and held steady. Sigyn blinked and focused on her mother.

“Mother I-”

“Why are you not dressed yet?” Skadi asked shortly, “You know it’s not appropriate for you to be wandering around in nothing but a robe.”

“Why not? Everyone else can,” said Sigyn without thinking.

Skadi snorted and pushed away from the ground, flipping onto her feet and turning to regard her daughter.

“You are not everyone else Sigyn.”

“I know that!” snapped Sigyn irritably. “Believe me mother I know. There is not a minute of my life when I don’t know it.”

Skadi narrowed her eyes thoughtfully, then sighed, “I see, so you came to have one of those conversations.”

Sigyn frowned, “What? What do you mean one of those conversations?”

“Those conversations where you rile against the rituals and traditions we have set for you, demand more freedom, and so on.” Skadi crossed the arena and grabbed a bar above her head, pulling her chin over it and down, “Am I right?”

“I… well, yes, no, in a way!” Sigyn stuttered, hating that her mother made her so nervous. “Mother, I don’t want to marry Berach!”

“I know you don’t. But that is how it will be.” Skadi crossed her ankles and continued her chin ups.

“But I want to marry Loki. I should marry Loki.” Sigyn winced, cursing herself. She had intended to make a proper argument, but everything was falling away, she was just spitting out the words. Surely she could do better than that. Wasn’t she trained for arguments and debates?

But when was the last time she had attended one?

“You love him.” 

Sigyn jumped at the sharp tone of her mother, who gestured at the Svana and Ey to go away. They vanished at once, leaving Sigyn and Skadi alone. Skadi strode over to her daughter and looked straight into her eyes.

“Mother…” Sigyn started, but Skadi snorted,

“Spare me, I know you’re in love with the runt of Asgard.”

“Then you understand why I want to marry him,” said Sigyn quickly, afraid to ask how she knew.

“Understand, yes. Consider it relevant, no,” dismissed Skadi, “The fact of the matter is that you and that boy would be a disaster as a joint monarchy.”

Heat flooded Sigyn’s cheeks, “You don’t know that!”

“Of course I do. You’re both little better than children, you especially Sigyn. You need an older monarch to handle the reins of ruling, someone who has some sense. Someone who actually cares about the running of state.”

It was strange to feel like she had been slapped in the face when Skadi had not moved. Yet her whole face burned and stung like palm had met cheek.

“Are you saying you don’t think I care about this realm?” Sigyn asked faintly.

“I’m saying I know you don’t,” said Skadi, “And if I had the option, I would have you married off to a Vanirian man, not a Ljósálfar, but the pedestal you’ve been put on has put you out of most people’s reach. So we must make do with Berach, he’s at least got the sense of how a realm should be run and cares enough to do the job.”

“I care about this realm! How can you say I don’t? My whole life has been about adhering to the rules and rites of being a Crown Princess and I have accepted them without much complaint.”

“And none of it matters, not when it comes to actually ruling as a queen,” said Skadi as if it was obvious. She turned away from her daughter and strode to a bench, sitting down and starting to unwind the leather straps around her hands. Sigyn watched her in a faint daze for a long moment, before asking quietly,

“What do you mean none of it matters?” 

Skadi sighed and looked up at her. There was nothing delicate or graceful about her mother, she was all muscle and strength, wearing leather and strong clothing at all times. On the rare occasion she wore a pretty dress like the women of Asgard, she somehow looked even more like a man. Yet in her own clothing, there was a rugged handsomeness to Skadi that explained why so many Vanirians were willing to follow her happily. As she eyed her daughter shrewdly, Sigyn saw the monarch in her, and her stomach and heart sank below her feet with dread as she started to wonder what her mother saw in her.

“When you were born daughter, you were the final step in reunifying Vanaheim. You know that while Asgard fought the Jötnar, we were embroiled in a civil war?”

Sigyn nodded, of course she knew about that, it had directly led to her own birth.

“My people, of the forests and mountains of this realm, felt we had become complacent. We wanted to launch a war on Asgard, take advantage of the war with the Jötnar to free ourselves from their yoke. Your father’s people, coastal people, preferred to be closer to Asgard, to strengthen ties rather than sever them, thinking it would be a greater benefit to the realm. It led to war.”

“I know that mother, I know that eventually the war got so bad you had to call a peace or you’d destroy each other and ruin Vanaheim. That’s why you two married, as the children of the monarchs leading the two sides. You unified the realm, I know all this. Why are we talking about it?” demanded Sigyn. She hated being reminded that even her conception had been to facilitate the realm.

“Because if your father and I had not married, and eventually had you, this world would be as full of death as Niflheim. Neither of us wanted to marry the other, but we did it for the good of the realm, and that is what you were raised to do too. And yet you’ve no real care for the realm at all.”

“I…”

“You make reluctant appearances at festivals, your false smiles fool no one when you attend an event, you make it clear you would rather be anywhere else wherever you go, you sulk in your room for days on end when you get unhappy news, and you show not the slightest bit of interest in learning of the goings on in Vanaheim, or how the diplomatic situation is going with other realms. You do not attend council meetings, you do not make suggestions or contribute anything to the running of the realm.”

“Because you told me that wasn’t my place!” Sigyn shrieked, “You told me I was to be a symbol for the realm and I have done that-”

“Without a shred of gratitude to anyone,” snapped Skadi, throwing away her straps.

“Gratitude?” Sigyn demanded, trembling with rage, “You expect me to show gratitude to the suffocating sameness of my life? To be thankful that I can predict every single day’s events without effort because it’s always the same?”

“I expect you to be grateful that you were born to such a high station when there are people who must watch their children starve when there is a famine. I expect you to be honoured that they look to you and love you, even when you sit before them stuffing your face with food they will never get to taste. I expect you to respect the faith and devotion they give you, honour it and not decree it a nuisance. I expect you to adhere to rituals which provide great reassurance to them with grace and conviction. I expect you to be honoured that the women who attend you have given up their own identities, their own desires and dreams for the singular purpose of caring for you. You do not have the right to snub them, they are called your subjects, but you belong to them, not the other way around Sigyn.”  

Sigyn’s voice failed her, her mind went blank and she just looked at her mother, tears stinging her eyes. She wanted to shout back, defend herself, but she could think of nothing to say. Skadi rose to her feet and went to her daughter again. She reached out and wiped a tear away with a calloused thumb.

“A sign of weakness Sigyn. If you are so easily moved to tears, that is yet another reason for marrying Berach. He will not let his emotions cloud his judgement. This realm needs a strong monarch, who does what needs to be done, and actually cares about how it is run and what happens within it.”

With that Skadi walked around her and started walking away. Sigyn swallowed and finally found her voice.

“You never gave me a chance,” she said in a strangled whisper, “You never gave me a chance to prove myself in the council, or with the diplomats.”

Skadi’s footsteps halted, Sigyn could not look around at her mother, but sensed her turning her head.

Her voice was cool, and light, but the words cut into Sigyn’s guts,

“You always had the choice Sigyn, the door was always open to you. But you always waited for a direct invitation. A monarch does not sit around, waiting to be given something. A princess does, but not a monarch. A monarch takes what they want and what their realm needs, no matter how difficult. The problem with you Sigyn, is you shrink from difficult things, preferring to sulk at the universe because it is unkind, hiding away in your room with your seiðr and your fancies. You never do what must be done to get what you want.

That is why you must marry Berach, because you’re not strong enough to stand up for this realm. I shall never understand why that is… you certainly never got it from either myself, or your father. We must simply hope that Berach will be able to care for both realms from now on.”

Skadi walked away, leaving Sigyn utterly alone. There was no one in the arena, and the Svana and Ey did not return. Sigyn was shaken to her core, her hands trembling at her sides, her eyes stinging with tears. Her eyes fell on the bar her mother had done her chin ups on, once Sigyn had been able to do forty without much effort. She walked over to it and curled her hands around the bar. She pulled herself up and gasped at the effort it took to pull herself over once. By the time she got to five she let go and sank to her knees, staring at her hands.

Her parents were marrying her to Berach because they had no faith in her own abilities, and she had done nothing to improve that over the centuries. Her sulks that had lasted for days, they were the times she had slipped away with Loki to Midgard. It had never occurred to her how her parents viewed what they could see, she had been too focused on making sure they didn’t discover the truth. Her resentment of the Svana and Ey controlling her life made her forget that they had all given up their names, their families, their own desires for her. To be known by a number, and nothing else, Svana First, Svana Second, Svana Third, Ey One, Ey Two… to be just a number and a servant… how could one live with that?

Loki valued her counsel, but he was the only one she ever gave it to.

When she had been travelling from the temple to temple she had resented her people for being so needy.

The realisation took her breath away. What kind of person thinks that way?

There was a flash of magic from her hands and Sigyn called up a clone of herself to stand before her, placing her own thoughts and reactions into it, wanting it to react as she did, to see what others saw.

“There’s to be a festival of fertility today, Princess,” she said to it, “We must make sure you’re presented.”

The clone twitched, clearly itching to sneer, then sighed and spread her arms, face blank and eyes burning with hate as she waited for the Svana and Ey to undress her. Sigyn grimaced and made it go away, unable to tolerate it for a minute, never mind every day.

No wonder her parents thought so little of her, if that was how she had been behaving, oblivious to the insult she had been broadcasting without words. For so long, all that had mattered to her was getting away, being with Loki, and anything else, even war and illness, was just in the way of that. Even her guilt about deceiving them would never make her stop resenting it all.

Her mother was right.

Sigyn curled her fingers together and pressed them against her chest. She had never felt so low about herself before.

“Princess?”

Sigyn looked up at Svana Ein, who gave her a cool look as she crouched down next to her. Sigyn could not articulate her feelings to this woman, who had practically raised her, as she realised she had no idea where she was from or what her real name was. As a child she had probably asked, but for the past few centuries, she hadn’t cared.

Svana Ein reached out a long hand and rested it on her shoulder. The touch seemed to break something inside Sigyn and she threw herself at her Svana, hiding her face and starting to cry. Svana Ein held her gently, rubbing her back, not saying a word as Sigyn started mumbling,

“I’m sorry, I’ve made such a mess of everything, I’m sorry.”

She was speaking to Svana Ein, but also to the other Svana, and the Ey. And her parents. And her realm. And Loki too. The more she thought about it, the more she realised how true her words were.

She really had made a mess of everything.

And she had no idea how to fix it. 


	31. Set the Sky Ablaze

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki always has a flare for the dramatics.

Heimdall’s gaze was stretched so far and so deep he was on the verge of collapse. Yet, his efforts were so far in vain. He could not find Loki.

Heimdall agreed with My Lady the King’s Mother, Loki was alive, but he was not in a form Heimdall could see. Loki was far too stubborn to die, especially so quietly. Heimdall knew that if Loki died, it would be in a blaze of fury and glory that would stun even Thor. Vain Loki would never allow anything else to pass.

“Are you sure you can’t see anything else Heimdall?” Sverrir asked anxiously, hovering at his side.

Heimdall did not deign to reply. The young Ás had been asking every hour for the past seven, ever since Heimdall had returned to his post. Sverrir seemed to understand he could not disturb his father, but didn’t seem to think of Heimdall in the same manner.

“Perhaps you should go back to the palace and make sure this remains secret. Loki’s absence might be noticed if things are too quiet.”

“I can’t! He’s my friend and I feel helpless back in the palace. I need to do something to find him.”

“There is nothing you can do. Go back young Sverrir, go to your wife and children. If Loki finds his way home, he will do it himself.”

Sverrir stood where he was for a moment. Then he said, “I remember when we were children. You never liked Loki then either.”

“My personal feelings do not sway my loyalties to the king.”

Sverrir snorted, “Right, and it wasn’t out of loyalty to Thor that you allowed his best friends to commit treason.”

Heimdall did not twitch, but irritation flared in his stomach. “Their only crime was love for Prince Thor.”

“And disloyalty to Loki. They did not like their king, and went against him. Tell me Heimdall, is that how all people should behave? Is Odin the only king you’ll obey mindlessly?”

“Watch your tongue Sverrir. Odin earned my loyalty.”

“And Loki’s done nothing to earn it? I know he’s saved Thor many times, he saved Odin from Laufey, slew Laufey, the Jötun who managed to slip past your gaze so easily-”

“Go back to the palace Kvasisson!” spat Heimdall, squeezing his hands around the hilt of his sword. Sverrir glowered at him for a moment, and then took his leave. When the sound of his horse faded away, Heimdall relaxed his hands, and contemplated his position.

Sverrir had a point, Heimdall’s loyalty was still to Odin, but he saw no real evidence that Loki deserved his loyalty or the throne. Heimdall was honourable enough to admit that part of his dislike for Loki was his heritage. Not his father’s blood, exactly, although he had no love for the Frost Giants, but his mother’s.

Bergdís. Or as she was known to the Vanir, Gróa Geirmundardóttir, the traitor of Vanaheim.

If Vanaheim thought Loki was unsuitable for Sigyn now, if they were to find out about who his mother was, they would never be swayed. Vanirians took blood heritage more seriously than the Aesir. Heimdall could not deny a surge of hatred for the woman as he recalled her actions.

Ironically, it was the fact that Loki was the son of Bergdís (Gróa) that told Heimdall he would return alive. Bergdís had dabbled in the dangerous seiðr of existence, pressing her fingers deep into the workings of the universe, and she had lived. Loki had been infused with such seiðr, he would surely manage to get out of whatever he had been caught in.

Heimdall sighed quietly to himself, and resumed his strenuous searching.

Not a minute later, the sky above the Palace seemed to explode.

  **~*~**  


Frigga had finally pulled herself together enough to leave the bedchambers, wiping away a few stray tears as she shut the door. When Loki came home and was safe and well, she would talk with him about the matter of his eloping with Sigyn. Frigga could no longer let it be. Loki had betrayed trusts and conventions for his own desires. While Frigga would not condemn him for loving her, she could not let his actions go unchecked.

Loki may have been her king, but she was still his mother, and men never stopped being their mother’s sons.

As she reached the door, a flash of red caught her eye and she turned in time to see the sky set on fire. Frigga jumped back into the door in shock, then her heart leapt.

“Loki!”

Turning around, the Queen of Asgard gathered up her skirts and ran down the corridor of the palace, shouting her son’s name.

**~*~**

Sverrir had barely made it to the centre of the city when the sky lit up with a huge ball of fire. As a wave of heat rolled past him, he ducked reflexively, shielding his face. All around him people were screaming in terror, and he looked up to see women gathering children to them and clutching them tight as they stared up at the sky.

“It’s Sutur!” shrieked one woman.

“It’s the Eldjötnar!” a man shouted.

Sverrir craned his neck up and saw a huge ball of fire swirling high above their heads, above the highest point of the palace and the observatory.

“Sverrir!”

His father came running towards him, carrying one of his magic jars and his face alight with excitement.

“Father! What’s going on? Who is attacking us?” asked Sverrir, grabbing his arm.

“No one! It’s the king,” exclaimed Kvasir.

Sverrir blinked, looked up at the swirling ball of flames, which seemed to be thrashing against some sort of shield, and then down at his father.

“Have you gone mad?” he demanded.

Kvasir shook his head, “I know Loki’s seiðr, he’s in there.”

“He’ll be burned alive!” shrieked a woman listening in.

“No he won’t my lady, have faith,” ordered Kvasir sharply, tilting his face up to the sky. “Come on Loki.” he muttered.

Sverrir looked from his father’s tense and excited face, then up to the flaming ball, now thrashing like a raging beast.

“Loki…” he murmured, “Please Loki, whatever you’re doing, I know you can win.”

The flames started to change colour, from bright red to white and blue. Sweat broke out on Sverrir’s body as the temperature of the air increased, evaporating quickly, leaving a sticky salt residue behind. Lines of definition started to spread out around the ball, huge great petals of flames twisting and contorting. Then, like sunlight opening a flower bud, the petals opened, slowly, with great resistance, forced open and backwards. As they opened in full, Sverrir could make out a small figure, little more than a black dot he was so far away, hovering in the air.

“LOKI!” he bellowed, terrified for his friend as the flames struggled against Loki’s seiðr, which he was using to push against the blue flames. Even from this distance, Sverrir could feel the strain Loki was under trying to control and subdue the flames. They were now fanned out like a star and swirling around and around, fighting with every bit of power they held. Slowly, inch by inch they were pushed down by an invisible force, folding in on themselves, compressing into a smaller and smaller ball.

“Ha!” The jar in Kvasir’s hands shot up into the air, heading straight for Loki, the force of its take off nearly knocking Kvasir to the ground. Sverrir was rather certain Loki caught it, but what he wanted it for, he could not imagine. Surely he did not mean to contain all that power in a fragile jar.

The flames were now compressed so tight they were a tiny ball smaller than a man, but they burned as bright as a star. Loki flew closer and then, in the blink of an eye, the flames were gone. There was a moment of utter stillness and silence, then an explosion which forced everyone to their knees. Sverrir covered his face, hearing the sound of shattering glass among screams of fright. Then there was a single scream of horror from Queen Frigga.

“LOKI!”

Sverrir’s head snapped up in time to see Loki’s form plummeting down towards the ground.

“He’s falling towards the Hólmgangustadr!”

Sverrir and Kvasir started running towards the duelling arena. Loki was faster, and disappeared into the Hólmgangustadr with a loud crash, and a plume of dust shot up into the air. Sverrir could not imagine that Loki had survived such a fall.

“Loki!” Frigga ran ahead of them all, only stopped by Tyr when he grabbed her by the arm.

“My Lady! Let the guards go first,”

“That’s my son!”

“We don’t know what that fall did to the structure of the stands, and you are the only one of the Royal Family left in good health. For the good of Asgard you must wait.”

Frigga looked like she wanted to swat him away, but then she nodded, stepping back as guards started running towards the arena. Sverrir was dragged back by his father as the guards entered as quick as they dared. Sverrir looked at his father and Frigga, seeing their pale, frightened expressions mirroring his own.

“Sverrir, what’s happened?”

Sverrir looked around. It was Mýrkjartan, pushing through the gathering crowd, his pale eyes wide with alarm.

“Where have you been?” demanded Sverrir.

“The king sent me on a mission,” was the short reply, “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know, I fear… the king…”

“My lords!” a guard came running out of the arena, “You must hurry. Someone call for Eir, the king needs medical care!”

Frigga wasted no more time, shoving Tyr aside and running into the arena. Sverrir chased after her, terrified what he would find.

The Hólmgangustadr was a huge amphitheatre where duals were held, and could hold the whole population of the city at a go. To find the sandy arena reduced to a crater made Sverrir realise that Loki would be lucky to be alive. Even an Ás like Thor would be gravely injured after a landing like that. The dust was so thick in the air it was hard to see anything.

With a gesture of his hand, Kvasir called in a gust of wind to clear the air as the guards called for him to hurry. They sounded almost afraid as Sverrir stumbled down the crater’s side, following his father and queen, with Mýrkjartan right behind him. As the dust blew away, Sverrir finally saw Loki and he came to a standstill, with Mýrkjartan crashing into his back.

Loki’s skin was shimmering and shifting with colours as he curled up in a ball, clutching a burning red object. His skin turned blue, then red, then green, then paled to white. He rolled onto his front, then struggled to his knees, lifting his head. His eyes were bright and tense, holding the burning jar to his chest with one arm, while the other arm –the other arm was missing.

Sverrir’s stomach lurched as Loki looked around wildly, like a caged animal, then down at the half of his upper arm that was left. Loki’s eyes widened in surprise, but then he seemed to relax and narrowed his eyes as if the stump offended him. Then before Sverrir’s eyes, the stump began to lengthen, bending into an elbow, stretching on and on into a forearm and finally a palm, a thumb and four long fingers formed. The reformed arm flickered and Loki let out a strangled cry of defiance,

“No!”

The arm solidified and his skin stopped shifting and shimmering, and finally he looked like Loki again. A naked, shaking, fever-flushed Loki. He flexed his reformed hand and brought it up to hold the burning jar in both hands. It looked like a clay pot, but it was shifting in Loki’s hands, the contents thrashing to escape. Loki’s eyes were wide again, focused on the jar, and Sverrir could feel him forcing every bit of his energy into commanding the seiðr he was battling under his control.

The jar wobbled, seemed to melt into a ball of molten lava, and then reforged itself into a rounded middle with pointed ends. It started to spin, smoothing its sides and engravings started to emerge in metal around the burning, solid flames, encasing it. Loki’s face was flushed and sweaty, he was trembling violently and Sverrir feared that he would shatter.

“Loki…” Frigga murmured, stepping forward, but Loki snarled,

“I can do it!”

The flames were spinning again, faster and faster, and Sverrir stepped back, certain it was going to explode. Then, there was a flash of blinding light, and Loki let out a cry of triumph. Blinking away black spots Sverrir stared in shock.

Loki hands were cupped around an egg-shaped vessel, the length of his arm, made of metal and frosted glass. Inside swirled flames, unending and fragile looking, but the power emanating from it was unmistakable.

There was only one other object Sverrir knew of that looked that beautiful and held that much power.

The Casket of Ancient Winters.

Loki held the object reverently, awed exhaustion stretching his face.

“Majesty…” Mýrkjartan called, pulling off his cloak and approaching him cautiously. When Loki did not react, Mýrkjartan carefully placed his cloak around Loki’s shoulders. “Majesty, can you hear me?”

Loki blinked and looked at him in surprise.

“W-When did you get back?”

Mýrkjartan smiled, “Just today.”

“You finished your task already?”

Mýrkjartan nodded. Loki regarded him for a moment, then grinned. “You’re good.”

“Thank you majesty. I will be happy to give you my report, but perhaps you should return to the palace.”

Loki looked around in confusion, dazed like he had a concussion, and seemed surprised to find himself in the arena, with so many people around him. His mouth formed a small ‘o’ of surprise, and Frigga finally broke free of restraining hands to rush to his side. Kvasir and Sverrir rushed forward too, surrounding him.

Frigga cupped his face, tears of relief in her eyes, “Loki! Loki my boy, are you-”

“Don’t touch it!” Loki snapped. Sverrir snatched his hands back from the strange object. “It’ll burn you.”

“I’m sorry majesty, I just thought-”

“Kvasir, can you send it to the weapons vault?” Loki murmured, sagging sideways. “I have no more energy left.”

Kvasir nodded, hand on his son’s shoulder as he drew several runes in the air before the object. With a ripple of air, the object vanished. There was a moment of relative silence, with the frightened crowd making a lot of noise outside the Hólmgangustadr and Loki’s ragged breathing loud among the small group. Finally, Sverrir could not hold back his curiosity,

“Majesty… did you just make a Casket?”

Loki lifted his head like it weighed as much as Mjölnir. His eyes slid to the side and then he said softly,

“… Well, yes.”

**~*~**

By the end of the day all of Asgard was buzzing with rumours. Some said that Sutur had attacked Asgard and their king had single-handedly fought him off.

Some said that Ragnarok had come upon them and Loki had stopped it in its tracks, containing it in a magical jar.

Some said that Loki had been abducted by Queen Karnilla and he had had to fight his way out.

All the rumours however, ended the same way.

The King of Asgard, King **_Loki_** of Asgard, had created a new casket to rival the Casket of Ancient Winter. A casket made of fire.

It was a momentous feat of power. Not even Odin had ever made something like that, something that would protect this world from their worst enemy.

Not even Odin was that powerful.

For the average Asgardian, this was excellent news, knowing their king could protect them. But for a select few closer to the throne, closer to Loki himself, the idea of Loki being more powerful and less under their control than ever set them on edge.


	32. Second Chances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sigyn demands a second chance from her parents; Loki is unsure what to do with the one he's wrenched from the universe.

“Thor’s going to be mad I broke the Hólmgangustadr,” murmured Loki as he lay on the bed in the Healing Room.

“It won’t matter to him when he finds out why it happened,” promised Frigga him. “And the arena can be fixed. You on the other hand…”

“I regrew my own arm Mother, I think we can safely say I can be fixed,” bit out Loki at her, trying to hide that his hands were still shaking as Eir examined his right (new) arm.

“Yes… how did you do that?” Sverrir asked from where he was standing at the foot of the bed, watching Loki with open worry. “And why did you go to see Fenrir? And how did you make a casket?”

“Sverrir!” Kvasir squeezed his son’s shoulder. “The king needs rest. We can discuss events tomorrow.”

“I would recommend the king rest for a few days at least,” Eir cut in, setting down his arm. “You’ve been completely drained majesty.”

“No argument from me about that,” sighed Loki, struggling to lift his head. “But I don’t have time to rest.”

“You will make the time,” said Frigga, rubbing his left hand. His old hand, now that would take time to get his head around. “Loki you need to rest.”

“I need to run this kingdom,” snapped Loki, pushing himself up as best he could with his old arm. He was reluctant to do anything with this new arm until he had time to examine it. At the time he had made it his mind had still been in the strange state it had been since he had been sucked into subspace. It had just seemed natural to reforge the arm. He wanted some privacy to examine it, to figure out how he had done it.

“Just tell us what matters you want us to sort out or prepare for discussion and we’ll get things moving so when you are rested we’ll have some headway made for you,” offered Kvasir. Every fibre in Loki’s body shouted ‘no’ at the idea of handing over control to anyone else, but he wanted time alone, and he needed to trust that these men, at least, would obey his commands.

“Very well, Mýrkjartan was on a mission for me, collecting numbers and locations of outlaws in Asgard. I want you to take down all his information and then tell Tyr and Forseti to have them all rounded up and brought to the city.”

“Have who rounded up?” Sverrir asked in confusion, “Not, not the outlaws?”

“Yes the outlaws. I want every outlaw rounded up and brought to the city.”

Kvasir and Sverrir stared at him in horror and Loki realised what they were thinking, and he sighed, “I don’t want them harmed if it can be avoided, and I don’t want them killed. Have them bound to keep them out of trouble, but do not mistreat them.”

“Can I ask why you ask this to be done? What purpose do you have for them?”

Loki rubbed at his brow with his old hand and hid a yawn of exhaustion, “In a simple word? Rehabilitation.”

Father and son looked intrigued. Loki smirked, “Sverrir, sent out a proclamation to every city, town and village. By order of the king, no outlawing may take place until the issue has been brought before me, or my representative. Only the king or the king’s representative may confirm an outlawing.”

Sverrir nodded.

“Did you pull the documents of the Vanaheim Marriage?”

Frigga’s hand tensed next to his leg and Loki spared her a glance as Sverrir nodded, “Yes majesty.”

“Good, I want to review them. I’ve been given a proposal by Queen Aetril. She’s expressed a desire to marry me, and I want to look at the contracts and discussions regarding the suit with Vanaheim. It was always intended that the Princess Sigyn would marry the King of Asgard and become queen of this realm. I want to know your thoughts on the issue.”

“Would you be open to a marriage?” asked Kvasir in surprise. Loki quirked an eyebrow at him.

“Should I not be? Am I not old enough? Does Asgard not need a queen?”

“Well, no, but you’ve never shown much of an interest before,” said Sverrir, eyes widening as he realised what he had implied, “I mean, in wo-marriage! You’ve never shown an interest in marriage.”

“Because it was not my duty to marry before Thor. But events have altered that. Now I want you to consider which marriage would be of greater benefit to Asgard, so that we may discuss it later.”

“And… would you have a preference personally majesty?” asked Kvasir quietly. Loki blinked at him in surprise, as his mother touched his arm.

“I think Princess Sigyn would be a better choice. You’ve long been dear friends, and it would perhaps ruffle fewer feathers for you to marry her rather than Queen Aetril, the public has been prepared for a Vanir Queen, and they are familiar with having one.”

Loki frowned at her briefly, before nodding, “My mother makes an excellent point. But I will wait until we meet to discuss things.”

“Yes majesty, was there anything else?”

Loki hesitated for a moment, then nodded, “Yes, I want to have a meeting with the men who served my father directly during the war with Jötunheim. Specifically those that were with him at the end of the war.”

“For what purpose?”

“I will say that when they are before me, but it has to do with an act back then that may cause trouble today.”

The two men nodded, and Loki dismissed them. Eir drew a curtain around the bed as she said, “Well, although I know what injuries you sustained-”

“I sustained one injury today Lady Eir, and that was quite enough,” drawled Loki, flexing his new fingers. Eir smiled faintly as she nodded,

“Yes, it was quite enough for all of us, majesty. But as far as I can tell, your arm is the same as it ever was… save for one thing.”

Loki watched as she gently picked up his arm and turned it into a bright light. At her touch his breathing hitched, his skin tingling from the touch, over sensitised nerves firing off impulses like a massive lightning storm.

“If you look here majesty, you can see there are marks, runes, in your skin.”

Loki’s exhausted brain wondered if they spelled out his name, like a spare doll’s arm kept safe until needed. Then he shook his head and focused on where she was pointing. They were very faint, like old scars, but caught silvery-white in the light. Magical runes, each with a particular set of meanings and only when put together did they reveal their intent. Except as Loki counted, he found that all of the magical runes were embedded in his skin. That was very strange.

“I… I’ll look into it tomorrow,” he said, the faintest tremble in his voice. “For now… I’d like to sleep.”

“Of course my king,” said Eir, “I sense no illness or dark seiðr within the arm, although… something is different.”

“How?”

“Well, you’ve always exuded seiðr, majesty, but now… it seems to be different. I cannot tell if it has increased or metamorphosed, but I can say it is a part of you as much as your magic has ever been before.”

“That… makes sense.”

There was a moment of tense silence where Eir looked at Frigga for help. Frigga inhaled and took Loki’s hand in her two.

“Loki, what happened to you?” she asked, sitting on the edge of the bed. Loki sighed and closed his eyes. He just wanted to sleep, to forget the sensation of being nothing more than a pinprick of something incomprehensible, of helplessness and wonder, to forget what he had felt, seen, heard.

“You know where I went?” he asked quietly.

“To see Fenrir,” said Frigga gently. Eir gave a soft breath of sad understanding. Eir had been the one to help Frigga and Odin care for Loki when he returned home. She knew all about Angrboda, Jörmungandr, Hel and Fenrir. Frigga’s voice trembled slightly, “He bit your arm off.”

Loki nodded, keeping his eyes closed, “When he did that… I don’t know how I did it, but it was as if the universe pulled me inside itself.”

The two women were silent and a thought occurred to Loki. He opened his eyes and looked at Eir carefully. “You know what I am, don’t you?”

Eir stiffened, but Frigga nodded, “We needed her to know in case you got ill or hurt in a way that being Jötun would complicate healing you.”

Loki nodded, turning his gaze to Eir, who looked confused and wary. “I’ve known since the night Odin fell into his sleep. A Jötun touched me and my skin changed before my eyes.”

Eir’s eyes widened with what looked like a realisation, as if certain things had slipped into place, “I see,” was all she said.

“However, since then… I’ve learned something else,” Loki turned to his mother, “What do you know of my mother?”

Frigga’s eyes flashed with an instinctive denial, a mother’s claim to her children, and Loki squeezed her hands lightly. “I… confess I know little about her. Your father said you were probably a bastard, abandoned out of shame as much as because of your size –disgusting if true,” she hurried to add, clinging to Loki’s hand.

“So you know nothing about Jötunheim’s previous queen?”

Frigga shook her head, “I thought it was always Farbauti, his widow.”

“Allow me to enlighten you mother. My birth mother’s name was Bergdís. And she was not a Jötun, but a Vanir.”

Frigga’s eyes widened and she leaned forward, “Loki I swear I never knew that.”

“I believe you, and it does not matter now.” Loki sighed and closed his eyes again, “I learned on Jötunheim that she carried me for over fifty years before I was born, using my mix of blood to harness Jötnar seiðr and use it to build the Casket of Ancient Winters. In doing so she exposed me to high levels of seiðr for most of my gestation. So, naturally, that has affected my own nature. I am as much seiðr as I am flesh.”

Eir and Frigga looked appalled at Bergdís actions, and it was a mild comfort as Loki explained, “When Fenrir injured me that badly, my instincts acted before I could think, my seiðr took over and pulled me back into itself. The magic subspace of the universe claimed me back, I had no physical form. I could not see, or hear, or touch –but I can only try to explain in those concepts.”

“We understand,” Frigga shifted closer to Loki.

“It was… unpleasant. I can’t say it was terrible, or frightening, because I could not feel anything, not pain, not emotions, nothing. But… I was being pulled apart. The part of me that is flesh and the part of me that is magic… they were being ripped apart because one belonged and the other didn’t. I couldn’t fight it, I struggled and fought but it seemed futile.”

He looked down at his hands, trying to see if there was a difference between them. “Then, I reached the Boundary, the layer of seiðr that permeates the universe. And… I sort of… broke it.”

“Broke it?” repeated Eir in alarm.

“When I got so close to it, I could see that the Boundary is like a tapestry, with different kinds of seiðr threading through each other all through the universe. I focused on a thread and I tried to grab it. But as soon as I tugged on it, it broke.”

Loki had to inhale several times, trying to control the terror that was threatening to overwhelm him now as he remembered what happened next.

“Magic has a natural rhythm, a way of containing itself to maintain its flow. When I broke that thread, I unleashed all the energy of that particular thread. In this case it was fire. It nearly overwhelmed me… nearly engulfed and eradicated me.”

Frigga paled and her grip was starting to become painful on his hand. But it grounded Loki as he kept talking,

“It took everything I had to try to push it under control, but I couldn’t tie it together. And… I realised what had to be done. I had to reweave it into a knot that could not break. That is what the Casket is, that’s why it is so powerful, it’s a knot of a thread of seiðr from the Boundary itself.”

“So the only way to stop the energy was to create a new casket,” surmised Frigga. Loki nodded, glad she did not press him for an explanation of how he had known what to do. He was not ready to deal with that.

“As to my arm, I can only guess that being made of malleable magic allowed me to regrow it, but perhaps it is embedded with more seiðr than the rest of me. I will need to study it.”

“Well, not until you have rested,” said Eir quickly.

Loki gave a half-mocking smile, “Yes of course. If you’ll excuse me then, I’ll be going to my chambers.”

“I think you should stay here tonight majesty, just to be sure you’re well,” said Eir with a tone that broke no argument.

Loki sighed, “Very well. I trust you know to keep what I have said to yourself.”

“Of course majesty.”

“Do you need anything Loki?” Frigga asked as Eir left them alone.

“Honestly? I’d like some privacy now mother.”

Frigga’s face tightened, but she nodded, “Of course.” She rose to her feet and kissed Loki’s brow. “Please don’t do something like that again. If I lost you… just please don’t get into any more trouble.”

“I can only promise to try,” said Loki softly, sinking into the pillows. He rolled onto his side to put his back to his mother, listening as she stood there, looking at him for a long moment before finally leaving. Once she was gone, Loki closed his eyes and drew his legs up, hiding his face in his knees. His chest was tight, and he felt close to a break down. He had looked into existence and seen his own insignificance and he had not liked it.

He had felt smaller than an atomic particle, and seen how utterly pointless he was in the grand scheme of the universe. It had hurt.

Loki started running his fingertips over his new palm, feeling an unfamiliar smoothness to his pads. This hand did not have the callouses he had earned in training.

As small as this fact was, Loki could feel a tantrum building inside him at this loss. He had earned those callouses! He had worked hard to be as skilled as he was and those callouses had been evidence of that. Now when he shook hands with someone, they would feel the smoothness of his hand and think him weaker than ever.

No, maybe not… after all, people would know he had lost his arm, that he had managed to regrow it with his seiðr and still forge a Casket of… of…

Loki glanced up at the ceiling, deciding he would get to name the Casket. After all, he made it.

The Casket of Ancient Fires? No.

The Casket of Wildfire? Better, but not quite right.

The Casket of Primal Fire? Yes, Loki liked that one.

He was itching to go and examine his creation further, to see if his skin changed when he touched it as with the Casket of Ancient Winters. Would he become an Eldjötnar, a Fire Giant? Or would he shift into a Demon from Muspelheim. Although he was genetically a Vanir-Jötun hybrid, he was much more than that, his magically exposed gestation causing him to mutate and alter until he was no real particular species of creature. He really could be any species he chose to be.

He could be Aesir, he could look Aesir and actually be it.

 _Or_ , a voice that sounded like Sigyn in his head sighed, _you could just be yourself. You could just be Loki._

But Loki was never good enough before.

_You made a Casket! Not even Odin could do that. If that does not prove you are great, what will?_

Loki knew these words were probably exactly what Sigyn would say to him, but it would have been more believable if she were here saying them. He would have preferred it too, he ached to be in his wife’s arms, to hear her gently questioning him for details, to let him expunge the experience from his mind and helping him become more objective. He wanted her to touch his new arm and reassure him it was safe and good, that she would not turn away from it. He wanted her to hold him and tell him that Fenrir was not just a beast now, after so long in his wolf form, that his biting of Loki’s arm was just an accident. He wanted her to tell him his son could be saved.

Loki just wanted Sigyn with him.

**~*~**

Svana Ein helped Sigyn back to her chambers and she was put in the bath. Shocked, numb, Sigyn let it happen without paying attention. It was only when the Ey started to wash her body that she jerked back, bumping into Svana Þrír, who caught her.

“Let me go,” she ordered, pulling away. She scrambled out of the grip of the three women and pressed against the side of the bath, panting.

“Sigyn?”

“I can do it myself –I mean I can wash myself,” she gasped.

“We know, but it is our duty to-”

“Just let me do it!” Sigyn snatched the washcloth out of Ey Annarr’s hand and held it against her chest. “Get out and let me wash myself.”

The women did not move, they merely watched her patiently, waiting for her tantrum to end. They would not be dissuaded from their tasks.

Sigyn hated them all.

With a sharp snap of her fingers she cast a spell that teleported them all out of the bathing chamber and she locked the door with three different kinds of spells. She could hear their exclamations of surprise, but they were muffled and distant and she relaxed against the edge of the pool. Alone.

She grabbed the washcloth and started scrubbing her skin, surprised at how her skin tingled at her own touch. Her own hands felt unfamiliar as she washed her body. Satisfying.

She paddled in the water, swirling her hands in the silky liquid and smiled as she made bubbles appear and pop. Her eyes lifted to the mural she had looked at all her life, but only now did she really take it in. A woman dressed in ceremonial robes, a crown on her head, a staff in her hand and a sword at her side. Tall, regal, confident and strong, she stood above all of Vanaheim, protecting it and caring for it.

This was the woman who should rule Vanaheim. Not weakling Sigyn. Not the girl who could not even fight for her marriage. Sigyn sighed and drew her knees up, hugging her legs as she thought about her mother’s words.

Weak, careless, selfish. Showing no interest in how her realm was run. Her mother was right, but she was being unfair. Sigyn had been interested once, when the stretch of years had not sucked her enthusiasm from her. 

“The door was always open… but no one told me that.” she murmured to herself, “You never said mama, you never said I could take an active role. You told me my duty was to please the people. I’ve tried to do that. Does it really mean nothing?”

Then she remembered something else her mother had said and frowned in confusion.

“There’s no famine in Vanaheim.”

There had been occasional famines in Asgard, but nothing that could not be solved. Vanir were experts in fertility, they had never suffered a food shortage. There might have been people in the realm who had to suffer lesser income that reduced their food, but even then, Vanaheim’s government had a system whereby every person was given a certain amount of funds to make sure no one starved. A family received more the more children they had, it was why Vanaheim had such high birth rates compared to other realms. Sigyn had been astonished by Loki’s shock when she had talked about their future fifteen children. But that was a normal number for Vanir couples, their women were strong and their men dutiful to their families. Between them a couple could raise twenty two children if they wished.

Vanaheim’s realm could handle a much bigger population than Asgard, strange realm that it was. It was the only one of the Nine Realms (excluding the realms of the dead) that was not a round planet. But Asgard made up for its size by sheer strength and might.

Why had her mother talked of famine? Had she just been exaggerating to make a point?

Sigyn decided it did not matter. Rising out of the water, she thought about what she could do to prove to her mother she would be a good monarch and needed no one to hold her hand.

She would start attending council meetings. The advisors would stare, whisper, be confused and curious, but Sigyn would not let it deter her. She would sit and listen, and she would try to contribute.

She would start paying attention to the various organisations that bore her name, the ones that offered medical care, the ones that trained teachers to keep literacy levels high. They had been started when she was born and had always run so smoothly there was little she had been able to do in her youth to help. Maybe she could do something now. She may be stuck in the same life at home, but she was more experienced in life than they realised. She had seen much with Loki, surely some of it would help her now.

Feeling some of her confidence return, Sigyn finished drying herself off and spelled herself dressed in a blue dress and made up before leaving the bathing chambers.

“Let’s go,” she ordered the Svana, finding some measure of control by stating it rather than just knowing they would follow her. The three Svana exchanged a look of displeasure as she passed them, head held high. She strode through the palace, ignoring Svana Ein’s attempts to steer her to her balcony. “I’m not hungry this morning. I’m going to the State Chambers.”

“Whatever for?”

“Is it your place to question me?” she asked sharply. Svana Ein’s eyes widened and she seemed a little speechless.

“Well, I… it’s just that is what is done, and you have no need to go to the State Chambers-”

“I have every need. And I will not allow you to keep me in a state of perpetual childhood to suit yourself.”

“I-”

Sigyn tossed her head and kept walking, dismissing Svana Ein without a word as she made her way across the palace. She could feel people watching her with obvious confusion, well aware that her usual timetable was not being kept. Their confusion only spurred her on to the door to the Council Room.

“Let me in,” she ordered the guards who stared at her in astonishment. “Do not make me repeat myself,” she said coolly. At once they jumped to obey, pushing the doors open and granting her access.

The hall was dominated with a long table, seated at which were representatives of all the different states of Vanaheim. At the head of the table sat her mother and father. Her father stared at her like he had never seen her before, while her mother’s face gave nothing away as Sigyn walked across the room.

“Sigyn, what are you doing here? Is something wrong?” Njordr asked her, frowning.

“Not at all. I am simply here to join you father,” she replied with as much conviction as she could muster, even as her stomach started to turn. Maybe she should have gone for a smaller stand of defiance to start with. “As the future queen of Vanaheim, I should be kept aware of all the goings on of the realm, should I not?”

“Well, your duties as a princess do not include that, not yet.”

“I really don’t think it’s sensible to attempt to keep me ignorant of the goings on until the crown is upon my head. Allow me to stay, for the moment I simply wish to listen and learn.”

Njordr stared at her carefully, then glanced at Skadi who gave a mild shrug.

“Very well Sigyn, take a seat.” He gestured and a seat matching the rest of those at the table appeared at Skadi’s right.

“Thank you father, mother.” Sigyn curtsied before taking her seat. She turned back to the Svana and Ey and said coolly, “Wait outside.”

The Ey looked stunned, and the Svana seemed offended, but they all obeyed, walking out of the room without a word. Sigyn settled into her chair and sat back, examining the faces of each representative. They each wore a badge on their chest which showed which state of Vanaheim they were from, and these Sigyn recognised, even if their faces were slightly less familiar to her. As they talked, she tried to see who was working with who, who was trying to put out who, and get a sense of the mood between the alliances.

Vanaheim’s world had a traditional set of divisions. The largest was that between those of the coast and plains against those of the mountains and forests, known as the Grand Alliances. Different cultures and attitudes, with more intricate differences as the groups broke into smaller and smaller numbers, down to clans at the bottom. The clans had traditional alliances which each other, forming a coalition, which tended to be defined by natural boarders. These in turn would be unified into states with nearby coalitions. The agendas of the State Representatives would represent the feelings of the state’s population.

The Representatives sat according to their Grand Alliance of the Civil War. Those states which had been with Skadi sat on her side of the table, while those with Njordr sat on his side.

Much of what they discussed was unfamiliar to Sigyn, so she could have contributed nothing even if she wanted to. For now she would have to listen and learn.

When the council was ended for the day, Sigyn followed her parents out first through the side door which led to her father’s study. As soon as the door was closed behind her, Sigyn spoke,

“Give me a year.”

Both her parents turned to face her, Skadi with knowing eyes, Njordr with confusion.

“A year for what?” he asked.

“The marriage. Give me a year before you marry me to Berach. Let me show you I can be the kind of monarch this realm needs, let me prove to you that Vanaheim will be in good hands if Loki and I were to marry and rule together. Don’t force me into this without giving me a chance to prove to you I can be a good queen.”

They both stared at her with inscrutable expressions, and Sigyn tried to look determined rather than desperate.

“A year is not much time to prove yourself after so many of neglect.” Skadi said coolly. “Yet it is too long to put off the Ljósálfar. They are eager to make this happen.”

“I can do this. I will find a way to show you… please mama, papa. Please give me a chance to prove myself before you condemn me to being raped in the name of Vanaheim’s prosperity.”

Both of her parents flinched. It was so minute it was easily missed, but Loki had taught Sigyn to pay attention to details, and she could see it in their faces. Neither of them had forgiven the other for the handful of times they had lain together to conceived her. They had both felt violated and used and Sigyn had to remind them that they were condemning her to the same fate if they went through with this marriage. Whatever Berach’s feelings, no matter if he was patient or kind, or gentle, Sigyn would go to his bed against her own will, and there was only one word she would use for it.

“Nine months,” said Skadi quietly. “You get nine months to prove yourself, or else we will have no choice but to marry you to Berach… regardless of your feelings on the matter.”

“You’ll also have to convince us that boy is worthy of being your husband.”

Sigyn nodded and finally smirked, enjoying the surprise on their faces at the sight of it, “Oh don’t worry. Loki will prove that himself.”

She swept down into the floor curtsey and bowed her head, “Thank you mother, father. I shall see you at the next meeting. And I shall take over organising the visiting delegation to Asgard for the Ostara Festival. It is only a month away. I will of course accompany the delegation, and I will impress upon King Loki your sincerest well wishes for his ruler ship, as well as your continued loyalty once more.”

She twisted to her feet and turned her back to her parents, her smirk widening as she strode out of the room. She headed for the rooms where her charities were run, to check in on them.

**~*~**

Meanwhile, back in the King’s Study, Njordr turned to Skadi, unsmiling.

“I see your talk had an effect on her.”

“So it would seem,” agreed Skadi, folding her arms.

“I still don’t think this is a wise plan. She’s bound to run headlong into trouble in some mad attempt to prove herself, and who knows what sort of disaster that will bring upon us.”

“Either she’ll fail or she’ll succeed, and either way we’ll be able to put Vanaheim in a better position than it is now in the Nine Realms.”

Njordr shook his head, hands slipping behind him. “I still think you cannot trust that boy. There’s something about him I have always disliked and now he is king I am uneasy. Besides, if she really loves him as much as we think, she might not ever stop rutting with him long enough to run the realm.”

Skadi narrowed her eyes, “Yes because being stuck in a miserable marriage is the only way to ensure you’re a good monarch.”

“It worked for us,” snapped Njordr quickly.

“It won’t work for everyone, and I don’t want a Ljósálfar controlling this realm if I can help it. You may be all for conforming and unifying until the seams can no longer be seen, but I am a Vanirian and I am not going to sacrifice my uniqueness if I can help it.”

“Further proof that you have no real concept of identity without making a show or fight about it.”

They looked at each other, too familiar to argue about this properly, they were simply saying the same things over and over, with little being resolved. Such was life.

“In any case, we got what we wanted.”

“And why did we need to do it this way instead of just talking to her?” Njordr asked irritably. “You may have no semblance of relationship with her, but I at least-”

Skadi sneered, “You have no more in common with her any more than I do. And you know why we must take this path. She has to feel she’s fighting us, or else she’ll be a useless monarch, accepting the word of her husband and doing nothing for herself. We did not make her to be a pawn. We made her to be a proper monarch for Vanaheim.”

“And when she realises how we have manipulated her?”

“Well then, she’ll sever all ties to us and the world we put her in, the Svana and the Ey, and have no choice but to stand alone.”

Njordr scowled, “You really have no love for her, do you Skadi?”

“Of course I do,” Skadi replied calmly, “I love that girl with all my heart. But it is not love that will put her at the height she can reach. Since I birthed her, held her to my breast and looked into those amber eyes, I’ve known she could be the most powerful woman in the Nine Realms, but your people’s over protectiveness and rules of isolation have cut her off from that.”

“Do not blame my people! The whole realm views her that way.”

“But my people would have seen her become real, not put her further and further out of reach.” Skadi picked up a green fruit and started pulling off the leathery skin. “We would have had her in the dirt with the rest of us. She was happier when I managed to make it happen, running through the trees, skinning her knees –but that wasn’t acceptable for your people.”

Njordr snorted, “You would have had her be a savage, without any refined understanding of science, seiðr, diplomacy. Little better than the kind of Aesir you detest so much.”

“You would have her be a theory, not a fact,” snapped Skadi. “Full of ideas and no real ability to implement them.”

“So in order to make her real, you would have her disown us? Hate us?”

“Yes, if it makes her a great queen.”

“And how do you know that will work?” Njordr snarled, cheeks flushed.

“Because we are great monarchs and we hate each other,” said Skadi calmly, “Hate is as powerful as love, but when it comes to proving yourself, hate is a much better motivator. We hated each other so much we strove to outdo each other in working together. In doing so, we stabilised the country –to our own private misery.”

Njordr did not reply, only sighed quietly and crossed the door, sitting down in his chair. Skadi broke the fruit into pieces with her fingers and popped one into her mouth. Finally, Njordr spoke,

“In hating us, Sigyn will seek to outdo us. She will seek to prove she is better than we ever were. So she will bring Vanaheim to new heights to prove it.”

Skadi nodded, throwing the skins into the fire. “Hate is Sigyn’s inheritance from us. The least we can do is make sure it is directed back at us, rather than at her husband, children or realm.”

Njordr watched the skins blacken and shrivel in the fire. “Skadi… do you think we were ever good parents?”

Skadi snorted, “Oh Njordr, to be a good parent you need to be a good person. And I’m not sure either of us could be counted as good people. Good monarchs, but never good people.”

“I disagree,” said Njordr quietly, “I think you can be any sort of person, and still be a good parent.”

“Then why weren’t you one Njordr?”

“… I don’t know.”

Skadi smirked and nodded, “Well,  you know this is the only chance you’ll ever have to be one.”

“By making her hate me? My own little girl?”

Skadi sighed and moved towards the door, “She was never yours, she was never mine. She was always Vanaheim’s. Now she has to make Vanaheim hers.”

“And if she can’t?”

“She will. She has no choice, or else she will wither and die. You can count on that Njordr.”

The door slammed shut behind Skadi as she walked out, the acrid smell of burnt fruit hanging in the study.


	33. Metamorphosis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seiðr has it's own will and desires, which even Loki, a master of wielding it, cannot fight.

Loki’s sleep was terrible that night. He woke up screaming into his pillow six times, his arm burning with pain, like a million tiny knives were dragging through his veins and arteries. Every time he shut his eyes he was assaulted with the sensation of being buffeted around by winds that should kill him, of being compressed and ripped apart in equal parts. His head ached as his mind tried desperately to process what he had experienced, but the memories were too beyond anything his flesh-entrapped mind could begin to comprehend. He had fallen into a depth where the universe was made of strings and membranes, vibrating and shifting at speeds that would shatter bones if the two things could meet.

“Your majesty?”

Loki sat bolt upright in the bed at the soft voice. Hlin squeaked and recoiled, pulling the curtains she had nudged apart to put her head through tight together to hide. “I’m so sorry your majesty,” she mumbled, from behind the curtain. “It’s just that My Lady the King’s Mother Frigga asked that I come and make sure you were well, but I could hear you muttering and you sounded like you were in pain and I was worried that you might need help so I thought-”

“Hlin, stop talking,” hissed Loki, massaging his temples with finger and thumb. Hlin went silent instantly, but Loki could sense her quivering behind the curtain. Sighing, he dropped his hand, “It’s fine Hlin, come in.”

The curtains twitched, and then they were peeled back enough for Hlin to push her face through, and she tucked them under her chin, doe-eyed and pale in the moonlight filling the room. As usual her hair hid a lot of her face. She looked like a frightened child. Loki could easily see why his mother doted on her so much.

“I don’t want to bother you, your majesty,” she mumbled, biting her lower lip.

“It’s fine, I wasn’t getting any sleep anyway.” Loki gestured her in and pulled his pillows up so he could sit back comfortably.

“I could get your majesty some extra pillows if you wanted.”

Loki nodded. Hlin disappeared for a few moments, then came back with two more pillows. After a moment’s hesitation, she piled them up behind Loki’s back and he was able to sit comfortably. Loki sat back, pulling his sheets up enough to cover his bare stomach. He avoided letting anyone see the scar Fenrir had left behind.

“My mother sent you?”

Hlin nodded, “She worried you would be unwell, but she asked that I don’t disturb you if I could avoid it. She didn’t think you would like being checked on by herself.”

“Astute as ever my mother,” sighed Loki. There was a rather uncomfortable silence as Hlin hovered by his bedside anxiously, not sitting down and fidgeting with her fingers. Loki flexed his new fingers, trying to figure out why his shoulder and upper arm hurt, but not where the new had fused to old, and then looked up at her. “I never took you out on Sleipnir.”

“Oh, that’s all right your majesty, I don’t mind at all. I know you’re very busy.”

“Still, you won that prize, I should have made sure it was honoured.” Loki gave her a small smile, “I promise you I’ll make it happen when I get a moment.”

“Thank you very much your majesty.” Hlin’s eyes flicked down to his arm and back. Loki sighed and flexed his hand again.

“I guess people will be looking at my arm for a while now. The whole city probably knows now that I regrew it. By tomorrow the whole realm will. And people will want to look at it, they will wonder if it looks normal, how I managed to grow it back… if it will be safe to touch.” He sighed and looked up at Hlin’s face with a bitter smirk, “Which do you think people will remember better Hlin? The freak arm, or the Casket?”

Hlin did not reply for a moment, looking down at his arm. Slowly she sat down on the edge of the bed and rested her hand next to his, not quite touching, “I don’t think they will forget that you made such a powerful weapon your majesty. And your arm looks the same as ever, not like the All-Father with his lost eye. I think in time it will just be a rumour if you don’t pay it much mind.”

Loki felt a flare of doubt, but Hlin’s next words, barely whispered, made him pause, “I don’t think anyone remembers as deeply as you do your majesty. You may not forget, but everyone else will eventually, especially if you do other things that distract them.”

Loki arched his eyebrow at her, but did not deny the likelihood.

“In any case, I think people believe you gave your arm for the Casket. A sacrifice.”

Loki’s other eyebrow joined its twin high on his brow. “Huh, actually I guess that’s not entirely inaccurate. If I hadn’t lost it, I wouldn’t have made the Casket.”

Hlin clasped her hands together and tucked them under her chin, “It must have been very scary for you.”

Loki shrugged, not answering the statement. Then he reached up and brushed that huge fringe of hers out of the way. “You shouldn’t hide behind your hair so much Hlin.”

Even in the darkness of the room Loki could see her face turning crimson, his hand hovering close enough to feel the burning of her skin. He dropped his hand and sighed, “You should go to my mother, tell her I’m fine and to stop worrying –although I know that won’t be much use.”

“Are you sure your majesty? I could stay a while if you want.”

“It’s fine. Go and get some sleep,” Loki ordered. Hlin curtsied and departed, leaving Loki alone with his thoughts. Not the best thing on a good day. Now it was intolerable. His brain was twisting inside his skull trying to process the information it had been dumped with. After tossing and turning for another hour, Loki gave up and got to his feet, shrugging on a shirt. His legs felt like lead but he started walking, not having a specific destination in mind, but he was unsurprised when he found himself walking into the Weapons Vault. The guards at the door looked ready to halt his progress, but thought better of it at the last moment. Loki half walked, half stumbled down the steps and staggered his way to the pedestal –now two pedestals –where his Caskets were.

And they were _his_ Caskets. He had made them –even if it had been Bergdís who had crafted the Winters one, it had been Loki’s seiðr, Loki’s power, that had allowed her to do that.

They were so similar and yet very different. They were both made of the same metals and frosted glass-like material, but the Casket of Ancient Winters rippled with blue inside its square containment, while the Casket of Primal Fires stood on a point, which bulged as it went up and then tapered off again into another point at the top. Whereas the energy of ice rippled gently, the energy of fire glowed like molten lava and swirled like a tornado. It was beautiful and Loki had a mad thought that this would be his wedding gift to Sigyn. Certainly she would appreciate it, but Loki wasn’t sure what she would do with it.

Maybe, and he knew he was addled even as he thought it, maybe he could make her a Casket of her own. Maybe, and he giggled at the idea, he could make her a Casket of Undying Love.

“Ugh…” he groaned, sinking to the ground as his legs ached with exhaustion, and his arm began to throb. Such sentimentality was unbecoming of him. It was the kind of thing Thor could get away with because he would mean it, but Loki could never express something that openly. It left him far too vulnerable and shrinking with embarrassment.

That had always been a problem for Loki when it came to being Asgardian. The people of Asgard respected emotions, respected passions –well to a point. A warrior was not shamed for weeping or for laughing, he was admired for becoming so enraged he lost all sight of self-control. Warriors were expected to be waterfalls of emotions. Women… well they were just emotional and could be hysterical if the mood took them.

As for Loki, he had never been good about expressing his emotions. If he wept people grew uncomfortable, if he was furious people thought it adorable, and if he was happy, people found it unnerving. It was hard for Loki to figure if he held his emotions back because of people’s reactions, or if people’s reactions came from his holding back. It was probably a cycle of sorts, as usual.

Loki grabbed the pedestal for the Casket of Primal Fire and hauled himself to his feet. He reached out and grabbed the casket, wondering what would happen.

To his surprise nothing happened. His hands just got warmer, but his skin didn’t change colour.

That was odd.

Loki let go of that casket and grabbed the Winters one. He waited for his skin to shift to blue, and was stunned when nothing happened.

Obviously his time in subspace had altered him further than he had realised. He let go of the casket and stared down at his chilled hands, looking for a tinge of blue. There was nothing. That… was disconcerting.

Loki put his back to the caskets and sat down on the floor again, curling his legs up. He examined his hands and conjured sparks to dance between his fingers. With a yelp he nearly singed his eyebrows off when his new hand over did it and set his palm aflame. He quickly extinguished the flame and flexed his hands. His new hand felt… odd. His old hand tingled with residual seiðr, while his new one felt more like flowing water.

Loki turned his hand over and held it out. He narrowed his gaze and started when a tree shot up from the floor and crashed into the ceiling with a thundering crack. He shifted back and stared at the tree, quivering slightly. He had meant to grow a shoot, not a huge redwood.

“My king?” called one of the guards in alarm as they came running in.

“It’s fine,” Loki called, commanding the tree away. “It’s fine,” he said again, smiling amicably at the guards. They did not look soothed.

“Majesty are you all right?” the first one asked.

Loki was certain he wasn’t but he simply nodded, “Yes, I’m fine, don’t worry. Return to your posts.”

Looking reluctant, the guards left and Loki sighed, slumping forward and staring at his hands again. His new arm was much more attuned to magic than his left, it was much easier to call forth bigger amounts of magic with it. He would have to adjust his self-control, or else he could do serious damage. Maybe he could construct some sort of object to help keep his seiðr under control until he had grown used to the change.

A sudden whim came to him and he summoned Gungnir into his waiting hands. He was instantly struck by the sensation of seiðr within the staff, and at the same time the repression of power. He narrowed his eyes at the staff, which was made of ash originally, but had been embossed as Asgard had become more powerful. Gold again. Inert and dead gold. Beautiful, yes, but all it did was repress the power of Gungnir’s core. Maybe that was the point. Maybe Bor, Odin’s father, had been unable to wield it any other way.

Loki hummed to himself and pressed down on the gold with a firm pressure, sending a small wave of energy through it. Gungnir’s gold casing cracked under his touch and Loki clucked his tongue as he started to pull at it. Bit by bit he stripped the gold off of the ash underneath. Gold gave way to silver-grey and Loki conceded that it would match Thor’s ceremonial robes much better now.

Thor would like that. He would like holding a real ash branch rather than a bit of gold. He liked the more rugged object over the dainty one. It was why he liked Mjölnir so much, even over a deadly sword.

Swords. Loki had a very nice sword, but he rarely used it. Maybe he should practise with it. He didn’t want to get soft or weak. Wouldn’t be very good for the realm if he did that. Laevateinn was his sword’s name. Lots of swords have names, great ones especially.

Heimdall’s was called Hofund. And there was another called Dainsleif, but that one was cursed. Once drawn it had to be used to kill someone or terrible things would happen to the wielder. It was kept by its creator, Dain.

As Loki peeled away bits of gold, he started finding the runes Odin had inscribed into the wood, to help imbue and regulate its seiðr. His thumb brushed the runes and he imagined Odin, not much older than him, sitting and carving these runes into the staff after Bor’s death.

What a strange thought, imagining Odin as a young man, beardless and with two eyes. Probably looked exactly like Thor. But Odin could never have been as sunny as golden Thor, could he? Impossible. Serious Odin, cold Odin, cruel Odin. A smile from Odin was like a green moon –never been seen in Loki’s lifetime.

No, Odin must have smiled at him at some point. Yes, yes he had, Loki could remember. Loki had been little more than a babe.

_“Come on Loki. Come on.”_

_Odin had held his hands out to him, calling to him. Loki had wanted to go to him. So he had gotten to his feet, unsteady and weak like a new born fawn. He had laughed as he tottered towards his father, eyes fixed on that craggy, bearded face, small hands reaching for rough, huge ones._

_“That’s it my boy. Come to me.”_

_Loki had to pause and flex his knees, almost bouncing, for a moment before remembering his task. Father had laughed, reaching out with his hands even more._

_“You’ll be a fine dancer when you’re older Loki. Good boy, almost there.”_

_Loki had finally wrapped his pudgy hand around Odin’s finger and he tilted sideways. Father caught him, lifting him up and pressing him to his chest._

_“Well done Loki. You walked across the whole room by yourself. That’s better than Thor at your age.”_

The gold was slicing into his new fingers, blood trailing over the wood as Loki kept tugging. His hands had been covered in blood, Angrboda’s blood, when he had launched himself at his father when Odin broke down the door.

_“I knew you’d find me!” Loki sobbed, clinging to his father, inhaling that earthy scent of his father’s, like old wood. “I knew you wouldn’t forget me, she said you would, but I knew you wouldn’t.”_

_Father’s hand was big, warm and firm on his back as he held Loki close. “Loki…”_

_“I’m sorry father. I’m so sorry. Please let me come home.”_

_“There is nowhere else I would have you.”_

_“My daughter, she’s sick, say you’ll help her.”_

_Father said nothing for a moment, Loki could not see him taking in the single huge room, spying Jörmungandr staring down at his mother’s cooling body with a pale face, looking at Hel whimpering in her cradle._

_“Let’s get you and your children home Loki.”_

Home, Loki’s home was here. He was Aesir. He was Asgardian. He was king. But he didn’t want to be. He wanted to be free, he wanted to do what he wanted. He wanted Thor to come home, big idiot. He wanted Odin to wake up.

_Wake up Father. Why won’t you wake up? You owe me answers damn you!_

_Wake up father, please wake up. You can’t be gone forever, you’re Odin All-Father._

_Wake up father, wake up, I miss you._

_Father, please wake up._

He was curled around Gungnir, clinging to the ash branch, because there was nothing else of his father’s he could reach. His arm was aching, the pain spreading through to his chest, and he could do nothing but lie beneath the soft light of his caskets, helpless and alone under the gaze of the most powerful objects in the Nine realms, a scared little boy wishing for his father.

His wet eyes slid shut as his body finally gave into his exhaustion. As his breathing even out, a faint breeze filled the vaults, carrying a voice for those who could listen.

“Loki… my son…”

But Loki did not hear a thing.

**~*~**

In the huge Vaults lay a man.

The man was weary, he was weak. Yet he carried the potential of a thousand suns, and had finally begun the process.

As he lay prone beneath the light of two knots of primal seiðr, his body started to glow.

Starting from his new fingers, it crept up his arm and started to spread like tendrils through his body. Vines of seiðr worked their way through every part of him, pushing through his magical system and seeping into his blood, his flesh, his bones.

The man’s brow furrowed in pain, but he was immobilised by the process. Seiðr had its own will, and would have its own way with this one. He had already escaped before when he dragged himself out of subspace, but Seiðr had followed him to make sure the transformation was complete.

**~*~**

Heimdall had been checking in on Prince Thor, amused to see his relationship with the Lady Foster developing very gradually. The Warriors Three were starting to miss Asgard quite deeply, but they refused to say so to Thor. As for Lady Sif, she was quietly weeping where no one would see her. Heimdall felt pangs of sympathy for them, and for once wished he had disobeyed his princess.

Speaking of which, Heimdall wondered what she would say when she found out what Loki had done. Getting his arm ripped off, almost getting torn apart by magic, and forging a new casket. Loki was starting to be more like his brother, not doing things quietly or hidden away. The Hólmgangustadr would take weeks to fix, Loki’s landing had shattered the foundations. Then again, a king had to make grand gestures, Heimdall sneered to himself.

Something tugged on his vision and he followed it. His eyes widened faintly, even if a part of him did sigh ‘not again’. It was Loki, of course, but Heimdall could see he was unwell. His magic was doing something to him, enveloping his body. Before Heimdall’s gaze he watched as Loki’s skin glowed brighter and brighter, until Heimdall could no longer see him. He quickly sent a message to Kvasir, knowing he was the only one who might be able to help. As the blue ball of seiðr flew to the palace, Heimdall watched the light fade away, to reveal… a chrysalis. It shone with a dark green glow and shimmered in the light of the torches.

Heimdall had never seen anything like it, and as he gazed at it, he could not see inside it. He could only sense that something momentous was happening within, and it was happening to Loki. For a moment something akin to fear curdled in Heimdall’s stomach, fear for Loki, and Heimdall wondered if this would be the final thing that broke the young king.

**~*~**

“What does he mean by rehabilitation?” demanded Tyr as Kvasir relayed the orders Loki had given to the other advisors.

“We don’t know, he wouldn’t say,” Sverrir admitted unhappily. “But he did say he didn’t want the outlaws harmed.”

“And just where does he plan to put them? What does he intend to do with them? Pardon these criminals and lowlifes?”

“I highly doubt that –I think that would be something Prince Thor would do,” said Hoder. “Loki knows people are not just good or bad, and can switch between them with singular gestures.” He lifted his unseeing eyes, face set with certainty, “Loki has a plan for them, of that I have no doubt.”

“Of course he has a plan for them!” Forseti snapped, “That is the problem, he has a plan and he won’t look to anyone for advice on it.”   

“Because he doesn’t trust us,” said Sverrir in exasperation. “And I don’t blame him.”

“You’d better mind your tone Kvasisson.” Tyr warned.

“Why? Because you’re older than me? That is not enough to demand respect now. We are all equals in this council, and I will speak to you as I see appropriate. And I’m telling you that Loki has no reason to trust us with his thoughts, not after so many years of being derided for opening his mouth. Forseti, you’re the one who dubbed him Silvertongue, why would he ever want to give you a further chance to put him down?”

“That may be, but he is the king now, and that changes everything,” said Forseti without regret, “He cannot let something so minor distract from his duties. And he certainly cannot keep going off on his whims as he has been.”

“His last ‘whim’ gained Asgard its very own Casket,” muttered Sverrir.

“It could have cost us the king! And then where would we be? Queen Frigga is a great woman, but people are already uneasy with Loki as king, never mind a woman.”

“I don’t think so,” Sverrir said, “I don’t think the people are as uneasy as you make out.”

All the men looked at him sharply.

“You all live in your great homes and in the palace, you don’t spend any time in the city, like I do. I tell you right now the only people who are uneasy with Loki as king really, is you and the rest of the nobility. The average man and woman in the city are perfectly happy with him.”

Tyr and Forseti were both about to speak but a blue ball appeared before them.

“Kvasir, go to the Weapons Vault,” Heimdall’s voice commanded, “The king is in trouble.”

“What now?” demanded Tyr. Kvasir rushed out without a word. Sverrir followed, his stomach turning in fear. They ran down the corridors, hearing Geri and Freki snarling as they forced their way out of their room and bounded ahead of the men. Outside the weapons vault the doors were wide open and the guards were staring into the room, wide-eyed and frightened. Kvasir shoved them out of the way, coming to a stop at the foot of the stairs, Sverrir at his side.

A green and gold chrysalis rested before the two pedestals. It was bigger than a man and a soft glow of green was emanating from it. Sverrir may not have been as skilled as Loki or his father in seiðr but he could feel the power inside that thing.

“What is it? Where’s Loki?” he asked, even though he already knew the answer.

Kvasir did not answer as he slowly approached the chrysalis. Sverrir followed, horrified by the object. Yet he could not ignore that there was something beautiful about it. Terrifying, but beautiful.

“What is it father? What’s happening to Loki?” he asked in a faint whisper.

Reaching out a hand Kvasir closed his eyes, trying to sense Loki inside.

“Such power… such magic…” he murmured, paling.

“How do we get him out?” Sverrir demanded.

“We can’t. He’s created the chrysalis to contain the magic, if we break it…” Kvasir shuddered and stepped back. “We must wait. Someone get the queen.”

**~*~**

It was hours of tense waiting, all the advisors, the King’s Mother, watching the strange, disturbing cocoon rest on the floor, utterly still, utterly silent. Only the slight glow gave any hint of anything going on inside.

Frigga was seated as close as the men would allow her, hand over her mouth as she watched the pupa with unblinking eyes. Her maids sat at her feet, one small and dainty girl was very tearful, she had only been speaking with Loki a short time before. Sverrir felt very sorry for the girl, it was not her fault. If anything he was angry with Loki for letting things get so out of hand. Was Forseti right about Loki? Sverrir, so certain only a while ago, felt doubt starting to creep in.

“We should call Princess Sigyn to us,” said Frigga out of nowhere.

Everyone looked around at her. “My Lady?” queried Kvasir.

“She is the only one who shares the same understanding of seiðr as Loki. With respect Kvasir, I think she may have a better chance of helping us understand what is going on.”

“If you wish it My Lady,” said Kvasir, and Sverrir shivered because he knew his father was agreeing because he felt helpless too. “I will go and write to her-”

“Look!” Bragi yelped, pointing at the chrysalis. Everyone’s heads snapped around. The chrysalis was shifting, softening like melting metal. Before their eyes the chrysalis broke into pieces, falling and evaporating away. As the shell faded, Loki was back.

He was naked again, Sverrir noted with a faint sense of amusement. At least this time he was intact. But something was different. His skin, once pale, now seemed to gleam like polished marble, his hair seemed thicker and shone in the lights. With a shuddering gasp Loki opened his eyes and grabbed at his chest, as if trying to clutch his heart. Frigga rushed to his side, blanket in hand as she knelt down on the floor.

“Loki.”

Loki’s eyes leapt to her face and Frigga let out a gasp of shock. Sverrir’s heart jumped as he saw Loki’s eyes. They had always been a striking shade of green, but now they were bright as emeralds, piercing, sharper than ever. His face was calm now, serene almost as he sat up.

“Mother,” said Loki in a mild voice. “I seem to have lost my clothing again.”

“Here my love,” said Frigga gently, handing him the blanket. “Are you all right? What has happened to you… you look…”

There were no words to describe it, but there was an air of might and power that shone through Loki as he stood up, wrapping the blanket around his waist. He seemed taller, stronger… if Sverrir was honest with himself, he looked like a god. A naked god, but still a god.

“I’m fine Mother, really. I simply… began a process that had to be completed.” He flexed his arm, the one he had regrown. “By regrowing my arm, I started something that had to be finished or I would fall apart.”

Sverrir stared at him, “Couldn’t you have done something less terrifying? Or better yet, couldn’t you have done it before?”

Loki looked straight at him and Sverrir’s breath caught in his throat. Loki’s eyes were downright terrifying now.

“I’m afraid there was little choice in the matter Sverrir. I am sorry it upset you so much.” said Loki in that same mild tone. “Now, I believe it is late, or early depending on your view. Why don’t you all go and rest. We will meet in the afternoon.”

“Loki, you need to rest.”

“I’m fine Mother.” Loki said, touching her arm. “Come, I will take you back to your chambers.”

“And you?” Frigga pressed.

“I will spend some time with Odin.”

**~*~**

Loki’s head felt clearer than it had in months.

Everything seemed to lie before him in a coherence he had never experienced.

He knew it would not last. As his body adapted and finished the transformation, he would return to his more familiar mind, although the changes to his appearance would probably remain as it now was. The most crucial change was his seiðr, and his abilities. Even as he picked up the silvery white Gungnir, he could feel his own seiðr flow into it and through it.

Whereas once he had been able to channel seiðr to his purpose, now he was so much a part of it there was probably nothing he could not do. He was now more powerful than Odin could ever dream to be.

Asgard would never be threatened again.                               

As Loki stared down at his father, he thought he looked small, which was a first. He recalled the memories of Odin encouraging him to walk, and for the first time in a while such memories did not stick in his throat.

“I wonder if you’ve seen what I have?” he asked him, walking around to sit by Odin’s side. “I wonder if you know what I have experienced in the last day… what I have felt, what I have seen… what has been done to me.”

He tilted his head and leaned forward, folding his arms on the bed and resting his chin on them. “I am not Jötun anymore. I am Aesir, because I chose to be. I am beyond blood now. I am seiðr and flesh fused together absolutely. The chrysalis was the final stage of that transformation.”

He snorted, shaking his head, “But I won’t bore you with the details. I didn’t come here to tell you about seiðr beyond anything you know.”

He rested his cheek on his forearm, “I came to tell you that for all my life I have wanted your approval. I wanted you to look at me the way you look at Thor. I wanted you to see my worth as your son. In trying to do so, I failed utterly as a parent. I let you take my youngest child from me, I accepted that you made him a mindless beast to be bound and forgotten. I will never forgive myself for that failure. I may have been young, but I was still his father and I let you take him.”

Loki sighed and stared at the face of the man who had meant everything to him.

“As I came from the chrysalis, a realisation came to me. Trying to gain your approval has consumed me. But… I realised that as I am a man, a father… as I am myself… you don’t matter anymore. Even if you woke up tomorrow, I would welcome you, give you back your throne… but whatever you would say about my ruling… I don’t care. I don’t know if I even care if you love me… but that may come back in time. What I do know is that I love my children, I love my wife… and they are worth more to me than you ever will.”

Loki reached out and covered Odin’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I hope you wake soon father. Mother misses you. For my part, I would be glad to give you back your throne, it takes up too much time, and I need to focus on my children, and my wife. I will do my duties as an Odinson, as a Prince and King, but I won’t just do it as if you’ll wake tomorrow. If I can make a difference, an improvement in this realm, then I will do it, regardless of what you will think. If I have to be a king, I shall do it on my own terms.”

Loki brushed his thumb over Odin’s hand, and a slight shiver went down his spine. He frowned, wondering where that had come from, then closed his eyes reaching out just a tiny bit, searching for the source of the shiver. It had been something dark, something evil. Something attached to Odin.

A tiny thread, a shadow of dark seiðr, was wrapped around Odin’s heart. Was this what was causing Odin to sleep for so long? Loki didn’t dare tug on the thread –he didn’t want another mess like making the Casket of Primal Fire. But he tried to follow it. It was like being pulled along by rapids, his seiðr so strong he barely had to think and it would happen. A thrill ran through him at the possibility of finding out why Odin was sleeping so long.

He chased down the thread. It was intricate seiðr, old, beautifully crafted, the kind of seiðr Loki would be proud to wield. Reaching the end was like running into a wall. A wall of rage, and hate, and misery and evil. Loki backed away quickly, trying to get back to himself, but before he did, he saw a glimpse of what he had hit. His stomach revolted and he pulled himself back so hard he knocked himself onto the floor.

Odin remained still as Loki stared at the floor, his crystal clear mind already acknowledging what he knew, even if he wanted to ignore it.

The thread that was looped around Odin’s heart led directly to Fenrir.


	34. The Suit of the Ljósálfar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meanwhile, on Alfheim...

In the rambling city of Llangell, the capital of Alfheim, the Queen of the Ljósálfar woke with a shiver. Something had happened in the universe, sending ripples across the Nine Realms. Alarmed, Queen Aetril rose from her bed and walked out into the forest that her expansive home had been built around. At the very heart was a small pool, reflecting silver moonlight as Aetril knelt by the edge and bent forward. Her own luminous face looked back at her.

“Taispeáin dom,” she murmured, tapping the water with a fingertip. Ripples distorted her face, and when they faded, she saw what had happened on Asgard. Shock, horror, fascination all crossed her mind as she watched King Loki emerge from his chrysalis, the orange glow of the newest Casket making his green eyes flash blood red for a moment.

“Máthair?”

Aetril jumped and lost the vision. Sighing, she looked up at her three eldest children, Berach, Deirbhile and Nuada.

“You sensed it as well.”

The three heads nodded, Nuada squeezing his fist tight. Deirbhile approached her, her primrose yellow eyes flashing silver in the moonlight, matching her wings.

“What has happened Máthair?”

Aetril sighed, rising to her feet, “There is a new casket in existence.”

Sharp intakes of breath were all she got from her children, and she felt a stab of pride at their self-control.

“What form of casket?” Nuada asked as Berach demanded,

“Who forged it?”

“It is a Casket of Fire, and it was forged by King Loki.”

“The boy?” demanded Deirbhile, “How could he manage such a feat?”

“He’s always been reckless, just in different ways to his brother,” sighed Berach, shaking his head in disapproval.

“Mind your words, he might yet be your step-father,” said Aetril, more to amuse herself at their twitches of distaste than anything else.

“Máthair, you might be right to marry him if this is what he does when left to his own devices,” growled Nuada, “Messing with things Odin and you know better than to touch.”

“The pool only showed its forging, but I don’t think he intended to make it. He seemed very shocked when he realised what he had done.”

“Who just accidentally makes a knot of primal seiðr?” demanded Deirbhile.

“Someone who puts himself on a path that leads to an elevation,” sighed Aetril, smiling grimly at their confused expressions. “He is not all that he seems, and has become even stranger now. He has metamorphosed, his seiðr has rebuilt his body.”

“That’s impossible!”

Aetril’s smile remained even as her eldest snapped at her. “I saw it for myself. He is now a fusion of flesh and seiðr, unlike any other, for better or worse.”

“Oh excellent, give the inexperienced, baby king more power. That will end well.”

“Deirbhile, mind your tongue. He may be inexperienced, but he is no child.”

“Maybe not, but he is not known for his mischief for no reason.”

“What does this actually mean?” asked Nuada impatiently. He was the least interested in seiðr. “He has more power? Is he going to attack somewhere with his new weapon?”

“I don’t imagine so,” said Aetril, leading her children back to their home. “Loki has little interest in war, he’s a man of words.”

“An Asgardian who likes words over battle is an odd Asgardian indeed. He’ll never last on the throne.”

“You’ve said that a thousand times now Nuada, give it a rest!” snapped Deirbhile. “Besides, Máthair, you obviously see some potential in him, or else you wouldn’t want a child by him.”

Aetril smiled at her daughter. “I see a great intelligence and a great skill that I would be delighted to gift to a child of mine.”

“Then why bother marrying him? Aesir men can bed whatever they wish without issue.”

“You know well. This is the first chance any realm has had in centuries to shift the power to themselves. And I know Skadi and Njordr are looking towards the day their daughter takes over, Vanaheim is running out of patience for the day when Sigyn finally becomes queen as she was bred to be. Which means that of the three realms, I will be the most powerful in reputation and experience.”

“Maybe so Máthair, but if King Loki can make caskets he won’t be short of a formidable reputation. He may even be feared more than Laufey at the height of his power.”

Berach shook his head at Nuada, “I told you, he wants to bring the Nine Realms to the same table to improve relations. He thinks Sutur and Malekith can be reasoned with.”

“There’s no reason such desires cannot be turned to our advantage,” said Aetril calmly. “I’ve dealt with both men in battle and in diplomacy. Once more, we can make use of Loki’s good intentions, he’ll need my help to broker a peace.”

“Máthair, you may have the skills and eloquence to back up your confidence, but Malekith will never make peace with you.”

“And that is what Loki and Sigyn are for.”

“Ah yes, Berach’s future wife,” smirked Deirbhile as she rose up onto her toes and started to dance, “The pretty little girl with a vapid mind.”

“Her mind is not vapid!” Berach snapped, “And I still have reservations about marrying her. Máthair you know I view Sigyn as my student, and I would never do anything to break that bond, betray that confidence. Why must I marry her?”

“Because you’re the only one left,” said Aetril, giving her wings a shake to rid them of dew as they entered the house.

“What of King Loki? Surely that would make more sense, it was always intended for Odinson and Njordsdóttir to wed.”

“And where would that leave us? Out on the edge again,” said Deirbhile.

“Is that not where we like to be? Not embroiled in their squabbles, not caught up in their petty games,” said Berach.

“At the cost of power and position,” said Nuada.

“Enough,” ordered Aetril, causing her children to fall silent around her. “The fact is we cannot afford to stand on the edge any more. Sutur is beginning to move his people into action for war on Asgard, as is Malekith, his attentions divided between Asgard and here. As for the dwarves, they are watching everything, waiting to see who will make the best ally, and in Jötunheim there are serious murmurings from the Frost Giants. We need to make alliances with both Asgard and Vanaheim to ensure that nothing of what we love comes to harm.”

“Would you be so willing if it were Prince Thor on the throne?” asked Nuada.

“Of course not, but that is as much because things would be very different if he were upon the throne. Thor is a warmonger, among all other things, and so the situation would be entirely at odds with this one.”

“And you’ve long had a desire for Loki.” smirked Deirbhile.

Aetril allowed herself a smile, “There is certainly a benefit there. Since marriage is the only way to forge long lasting alliances with these realms, it is only logical that I marry Loki and Berach marry Sigyn to form a triangle of allies, with us at the top point.”

“It will not be easy,” said Berach in a low voice, “Loki and Sigyn have a strong relationship –I remember well Sigyn’s excitement whenever she received a letter from Loki while she was here studying with me. That may lead them to think that they ought to marry.”

“Well, we will have to impress upon them the importance of alliances, not just desire.”

Nuada huffed, “It would not be such an issue if the Vanirians weren’t so obsessed with only the highest and grandest man taking their darling princess to bed. Or if Asgard saw that a more fluid sexuality made things better. Then marriages would not be needed, you could instead have a child with Loki as you wish and the three realms could unify under a shared banner for better reasons.”

Berach sniffed, “What works for us does not necessarily work for others.”

Nuada growled, “Oh shut up Berach and go get ready to go courting your princess!”

Berach’s expression became pinched and he turned to Aetril, “Máthair, I will go to Vanaheim, but I will not lie to my student.”

“I expect nothing less my son. And Sigyn is a reasonable girl, she’ll surely see the logic in a union with you.”

Berach’s eye twitched, “I doubt it will help.”

The four went their separate ways and Aetril climbed back into her bed with a soft sigh. Her vision had not shown her the circumstances that had led to such a radical transformation in the young king, but Aetril could only imagine how frightened he must be. When she had last seen him all those weeks ago, he had looked so brittle and anxious she had just wanted to wrap her arms around him and reassure him. But monarchs don’t do such things to other monarchs.

**~*~**

Sigyn was reading the records of her charity that maintained the libraries through the realm, ensuring that the latest books were being stocked. She had managed to give the Svana and Ey something to do by making them pull all relevant information for her other charities.

“Goðólfr,” Sigyn called. The man who ran her charities looked up, giving her a pinched look.

“Yes Mikilfengleg Kona?”

“Why have you stopped distributing advanced magical texts by Kvasir Honirson in the States of Bilebekkr, Oslamrsetr, Orsteinnfell and Varibyr?”

Goðólfr sniffed, “Those states have requested we no longer send them books of that nature. They feel they are too Aesir in nature.”

“… I see.” Sigyn did a quick check in her mind of the map of Vanaheim, recalling the divisions of the civil war. Those four states all fought on the side of her mother. “I understand,” she corrected herself, “Have there been any other sorts of issues like that?”

“A large number have come up in the past few centuries. As I’m sure you know, there has been an increase in tensions between those who believe in cultural purity, lest our uniqueness be lost, and those who wish to embrace other cultures.”

Sigyn had not known this, and tried not to let him see. “Well… could you give me a list of them?”

“I’ll have one drawn up for you Mikilfengleg Kona.”

“Good.”

Sigyn turned to resume her reading, when Svana Þrír came up to her.

“Princess, we must go. Prince Berach is going to be here soon and you must meet with him.”

Sigyn nearly dropped the papers in her hands. She had completely forgotten that the whole reason she had lost her temper and confronted her mother had been because Berach was coming to court her.

“But… my parents agreed…” she stuttered, then quickly composed herself and smiled, “Of course. It wouldn’t do to keep my old tutor waiting.”

Sigyn was compliant and quiet as she was dressed, mind whirling as she thought about what she would do. She decided she would be polite and treat him as she always had, as her tutor. When Berach arrived, Sigyn was in her garden, sipping some wine and trying to stay calm. The Svana and Ey were a watchful distance away.

“Princess Sigyn.”

Sigyn looked around and smiled openly. Despite the situation, Berach was a welcome sight.

“Prince Berach!”

Berach gave his sharp edged smile as he kissed her cheek and squeezed her hand. “I’m glad to see you again.” His eyes travelled over her face, then up. “Nice haircut.”

Sigyn touched her hair self-consciously. “I got tired of tangles.”

“Indeed.” Berach looked over her face again, “You’ve changed since I last saw you.”

“Have I?” Sigyn asked lightly, stepping back.

“Mmmm… something… sadder,” smirked Berach, walking around to sit opposite her. His wings shifted out of the way so he could sit. 

“Your courting methods need work,” snorted Sigyn, then blinked as she realised what she had said. She had not meant to bring it up at all, hoping to avoid the subject entirely.

“Who said I was courting you?” Berach asked sharply. Sigyn straightened her back at his tone.

“My parents said that was why you were visiting.”

“I never said it,” said Berach in a clipped tone. Sigyn cringed childishly, like when she had made a mistake and he had scolded her.

“Well I suppose I was misinformed,” she said softly.

“You should have known better. Would I really use such sentiment as courting?”

Sigyn shrugged, “I didn’t think. I was distracted when they told me.”

Berach stared at her, eyes narrowed. Sigyn held still, trying to think of a way to improve the mood. Berach’s next words certainly did not achieve that.

“You’re afraid of me.”

“No I’m not.”

“Yes you are, I can see it in your face. You never feared me before, so what’s changed?”

Sigyn swallowed, “Do you want my honest answer?”

“You know that’s what I expect of you.”

“I don’t want to marry you. I don’t want to become the Queen of Alfheim.”

“I know,” sighed Berach, “I knew when this was suggested you would not want it. To be honest I feel it violates a trust between us. I was your tutor when you were a girl, it seems… inappropriate to consider being your husband now.”

Hope rose inside Sigyn, “So… you don’t want it either?”

Berach sipped some wine before answering, “I would say that I would not wish to damage the relationship we have. However, what I, or you, want is not necessarily what the realms want.”

Sigyn nodded, “I know. We’re only good for alliances and breeding, aren’t we?”

Berach gave her a scolding look, “It is not that crude or basic. The realms want safety, peace and prosperity. If we can provide that by marriage instead of war, is that not the better option?”

“… I suppose so.” Sigyn felt a stab of shame as she realised he was right. Today seemed to be the day where everyone made her feel ashamed of her behaviour. She looked at her lap miserably.

Berach set his cup down and stood up, walking around the table and holding out his hand to her. “Come walk with me _a stór_.”

Sigyn smiled at his old term of endearment, and took his hand, trying to ignore the Svana and Ey rising to follow. Her garden had paths that meandered through the trees and bushes, giving various views of beautiful landscapes. Berach’s hand was strong and reassuring around hers, like when he had taken her through the woods of Alfheim and shown her all the magical plants to make use of.

“Name?” Berach said, pointing at an orange flower. Sigyn smiled, clearly he had been thinking the same.

“Mosurr.”

“Properties?”

“Medicinal properties are calming, mediation, relieving of nightmares. Magical properties, it can be used in rituals where the participant is unwilling, and to ease the stress of the conjurer if they are using intense seiðr that is rebellious when bound.”

“Risks?”

“Minimal, it’s not poisonous, and it’s magically neutral –unless it’s grown in a specific and deliberate manner, under a new moon, in red soil in a cold environment. Then it will be magically charged with an inclination towards gathering and storing power.”

“Very good,” nodded Berach. “I’m glad you still remember my lessons.”

“Of course. You helped me become a great sorceress. It’s the one title I have actually earned in my life.” Sigyn gave him a rueful smile. Berach looked at her, eyes like knives as he stopped walking. Sigyn could feel him peeling layers away from her, slowly studying them until his eyes narrowed and Sigyn was sure he knew everything she was thinking.

“You can earn all the titles you have. You bear the title of Sacred Healer, which you have earned by your healing of illness. You have earned your title as High Priestess, because you adhere to the rituals and perform every one you must.”

Sigyn did not say anything, lowering her chin and letting go of his hand. She walked across the grass and plucked a chunk of a thorny plant, snapping the stem and cradling it in her hands.

“Røsslyng. Medicinally useless. Magical properties include being used in truth potions, curses involving flaying skin and draining blood.” She pressed the thorns into her skin, drawing blood. Berach walked up behind her and rested his hand on the back of her neck.

“Mo banphrionsa beag daor…” he sighed, “I was once your confidant, centuries ago. Let me be it once more.”

Sigyn shook her head, “No, I can’t. I have to stand on my own.”

If she opened her mouth, Sigyn was afraid she would confess everything to him, including her relationship with Loki, if only to make sure he would not make her go through with this marriage. But she did not want to burden Berach with this truth. He would be so disappointed in her for lying.

Berach sighed and dropped his hand, “Very well.”

They were silent for a moment, Sigyn counting the thorns in her hand as she broke them off, then,

“Berach?”

“Mmmm?”

“Do you think I will ever be a good queen?”

“Do you want to be?”

“Yes,” said Sigyn reflexively.

“Do you acknowledge you won’t always get your way in the role?”

Sigyn gave a bitter chuckle, “I don’t get my way ever, so I’m well aware being queen will no better.”

“Do you understand it is about your people and not yourself when you become queen?”

Sigyn closed her eyes as she felt a pang in her stomach. Her whole life had never been about her. “Yes.”

“… then you’ll make a grand queen when the time comes.”

Sigyn bit her lip and let the clump and thorns fall from her hands. The thorns had left pinpricks of blood all over her hands and she stared at them dully. Berach reached out and cupped her hands with his. He tugged her closer and put his arms around her. Sigyn tucked her hands under her chin and buried her face in his chest.

“What am I going to do Berach?” she whispered into his shirt. “What am I going to do? My parents think I am a failure and I don’t know how to prove I’m not.”

Berach gently pushed her away and looked into her face. They were so close Sigyn could almost feel his breath on her cheek. One of his long hands came up and he brushed the backs of his fingers over her hair and cheek.

“Any man would be lucky to call you wife Sigyn,” he murmured, “And any realm would be blessed to have you as queen. You just need to remember you are not those roles alone. Finding your balance of self and duty will be key.”

Sigyn nodded, “Do you ever feel like you’ve been waiting for all the years since your birth for your life to actually start?”

Berach sighed, “I fear it is the fate of the children of immortals. The cycle of life does not work as cleanly for us as it does for the mortal creatures, like the dwarves and demons and Midgardians.”

“If you’ve been bred for a single purpose, but that purpose never comes… what do you do?” Sigyn wondered.

“I? I would make it happen.”

“You are braver than me,” Sigyn sighed.

“Bravery comes from wanting something enough. Do you want something enough to risk all?” Berach wondered.

Sigyn looked out over the city, and thought carefully. She wanted Loki enough to risk all… but there was a part of her screaming that she had no right to put her throne in jeopardy, not after so many people had invested their hopes into her.

Berach had asked her if she wanted to be queen. The truth was that she had no idea what she wanted. She had never been asked before. From the earliest moment of her life she had been told that she would be queen, and was trained for it. Just like she been told she would learn healing, seiðr, dancing, sewing, wrestling, riding –everything she knew had been taught as a command from her parents, the council, the Svana.

Loving Loki, marrying Loki, loving Loki’s children, they were the only things she had decided for herself.

It didn’t matter if she wanted to be queen or not, she had no choice in the matter. The realm would fall into chaos if there was no ruler, every faction scrabbling for control. Thousands, maybe millions of people could die, just like in the war that her birth had ended.

“Everyone on this planet is expecting me to be their queen. If I’m not, countless people will die in the resultant fighting. I don’t have a choice but to be queen. What I want is irrelevant,” she said, pulling away from Berach.

Berach grabbed her hands and held them tight.

“Listen to me, mo banphrionsa beag daor, what you want is absolutely relevant. It will be the foundation of your reign. A monarch cannot run their realm until they know who they are and what they want. I am a man of seiðr and philosophy, and I bring these to my people as best I can.” Berach pulled on her hands, so they were almost nose to nose, “The question you must know the answer to, Sigyn, is who are you and what do you want?”

Sigyn inhaled shakily and clutched at his hands.

“I… I don’t think I know,” she whispered.

Berach looked down, “That will make you easy to manipulate, and influence. You must forge a solid core of absolute certainty of yourself, or you will fail as a queen, and as a person.”

Sigyn looked at their hands and smiled bitterly,

“Three days ago I thought I knew who I was. But now I’m not so sure. It’s like I lived a dream, where I was numb to my surroundings, trapped in a daze, of resignation, and begrudgement, and several people have slapped me awake… and I realised so much time has passed, and I have done nothing… because there was nothing I could do.”

Sigyn looked up at the Svana and Ey. The Ey had their eyes on the ground, the Svana were watching her with sharp eyes.

“All my life the Svana have kept me at their heel. My parents put me in their care from the moment I was born. I am Crown Princess, but they are my guardians, they have control over me, by law.”

“Yes, when you were a child. Are you a child still?”

Sigyn’s face began to burn. “No.”

“Then don’t let them treat you like one.” Berach’s hand settled on her waist and he held her tight as she trembled slightly. As she breathed deeply to calm herself, Sigyn became aware of his hands on her. It was not the touching itself, Ljósálfar were naturally very intimate and relaxed with each other physically, but Sigyn remembered herself and why Berach was here. She reached up and linked her fingers with his, looking into his face with as calm an expression as she could manage.

“My parents gave me nine months. Would that be enough time for me to…” she did not express what was forming in her mind.

“If you were quick and clever about it, you could do anything in nine months,” replied Berach with a knowing smirk.

“… I’m afraid,” she whispered.

Berach leaned his head down and brushed his lips over her forehead. “Anyone would be, but if you really want this, you must fight for it.”

Sigyn nodded, excitement battling with terror inside her as she fully grasped what she was thinking. It could be a complete disaster if she miss-stepped. But if she did it right, she could reform her own image, take control of her own life, and become a proper princess and monarch to her people. And then, maybe, she could convince the people that she and Loki were an ideal match, as lovers and monarchs, or at the very least, keep them from outrage when Loki proposed to her publicly.

“I must go, I have things to plan,” she said, pulling away from Berach. She dropped into a curtsey and smiled up at him. “Thank you Berach.”

Berach did not smile, “I cannot help you Sigyn, and I must think of my realm, as you must think of yours. Whatever happens between our realms, good or ill… it is not a reflection of my pride or fondness for you.”

Sigyn nodded, realising Berach would not fight their betrothal because it would be too important a victory for Alfheim. She did not like it, but she would respect it.

“Good day Prince Berach.”

“Good day Princess Sigyn.”

Berach kissed her hand and the two parted ways, Sigyn heading straight for the archives. She had some research she needed to do.  


	35. The Turning Point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not wanting to dwell on the recent events, Loki sets about rewriting the laws of Asgard -and not even thousands of years of tradition will stop him.

Loki forced himself to go to his bedchambers and lock himself inside before he succumbed to the temptations of trying to delve into that black thread he had found between his father and his son. It was old, had clearly been there for centuries, it could wait a few more days until he was more familiar with his new body. He could feel that his seiðr was stronger, grander, and altogether harder to restrain and control. Considering what he had done last time meddling with primal, deep seiðr, even inadvertently, it seemed prudent for him to hold back until he could be sure he would not harm either Odin or his son. Especially his son.

He stripped off his clothing and stood in front of his mirror. As soon as he saw his eyes he understood why Sverrir had been gaping at him so openly when he had emerged from his chrysalis. His eyes were sharp and bright like emeralds reflecting light, his skin was whiter than ever and his hair was thicker and softer under his fingertips. On a careful inspection, he found the magical runes were all over his body now, just like his arm.

Rubbing his fingertips with his thumb, Loki growled as he realised his callouses were completely gone. He would have to wear them into his skin all over again if he wanted to hold daggers, Bo staffs or any other weapons without blistering. A thought leapt to his mind and he grabbed at his stomach, looking down.

“No!”

His scar from Fenrir’s birth was gone, in fact all his scars were gone, but that one was the one he actually cared about. It was his mark, it was the only remnant he had of his youngest that reminded him that his boy had emerged from his body perfect and beautiful.

“No, no, no!” he snarled scratching at his skin, “You can’t that away from me!”

Of course there was no answer from anything, and his anger faded away like water slipping over his body, replaced with a bitter resignation. He could do nothing to regain it, he had been essentially reborn and he supposed the scar was another sacrifice to his metamorphosis.

He would much rather have lost an arm again.

**~*~**

To say his advisors were obviously nervous was an understatement. Every single one of them was visibly wary of Loki as he walked into the State Chambers with his mother and sat down on his raised chair.

“Please, everyone sit.” He extended a hand to the table and watched as everyone took their places. Some, like Tyr were open in their staring, while others like Sverrir, were more subdued, eyes flicking up to his face every few seconds. Frigga was composed and calm next to him, but Loki could sense her concern radiating like heat.

Resting the base of Gungnir on the floor, Loki lifted his chin a little,

“Now, shall we start by dealing with the recent events?”

Everyone nodded, all eyes, even sightless Hoder’s, turning to him fully.

“As you know I went to visit Fenrir the wolf, for reasons I will not divulge just yet. Let’s just say it was on a suspicion. And as you know, Fenrir bit my arm off when I got too close. I was then sucked into magical subspace...”

Loki kept his description of being lost in subspace brief and clinical. He did not want to convey the terror of the experience, nor the panic in forging the casket.

“Majesty, might I ask a question.” Bragi asked quietly.

Loki nodded.

“How did you know how to make a Casket? As far as I was aware, no one knew where the Casket of Ancient Winters came from, or who forged it. It was always assumed that Laufey came upon it in some dark part of the Nine Realms.”

Loki sighed, up until now he had avoided thinking too hard about this, “It was revealed to me by a… I suppose you could call it a shadow, left behind by the one who made the first one. I don’t know how she knew what to do when she did it, but the shadow she left behind was enough to guide me in forming my Casket of Primal Fires.”

“Nice name your majesty.” Sverrir said with a faint smile.

Loki smirked, “I thought so. In any case, I forged the casket because I was converted into pure magical energy, and when I was able to reconnect with my flesh, I reformed. However, I had lost the connection to my arm and was forced to make it out of seiðr.”

Loki held up his right hand, allowing the fading sunlight to catch off the polished marble effect it now had. “This began a process I did not anticipate. By chance I had made a perfect fusion of flesh and seiðr in this arm, but it could not survive attached to the rest of me as my body was. I may have been infused with seiðr, but it was in layers. It’s rather like how a pie has crust, then filling, then crust. All the ingredients together make the pie what it is, but they are distinct from each other. My new arm was more like a cake, with all the ingredients mixed together to make the finished product.”

Loki glanced up from his own hand and cocked his head to the side at the looks on some of the men’s faces, “It may sound odd, but it’s an accurate metaphor. Also, I’m starving.”

Sverrir opened his mouth and Loki cut across him, “I’ll eat after this meeting. In any case, my new arm was a much stronger fusion of seiðr and flesh because they were mixed together to form the limb, but it did not mix well with the rest of me. And since seiðr has its own mind of a sort, it decided that rather than fall off me due to incompatibility, it would simply make the rest of me match.”

“So the chrysalis was to contain the seiðr as it transformed you into a being of seiðr and flesh, rather than a natural carrier of seiðr,” said Kvasir sagely.

“What’s the difference?” asked Forseti, eyes narrowed.

“The sheer power in a magical gesture,” was the curt reply. Loki smirked at his old teacher, but was surprised at the dark look in his eyes as he looked at Loki. “Majesty, I would like to investigate this transformation. I’m certain I have read something of it happening before and I would like to gather what I can.”

Loki nodded, “Of course. Now, unless there are any other questions, shall we deal with other matters?”

“Yes your majesty.” Sverrir pulled out a document, “I spoke with Mýrkjartan and we have compiled the information regarding outlaws in Asgard.”

Loki held out his hand and Sverrir gave him the document. Loki examined it, eyebrow rising as he read.

“Is Mýrkjartan sure about this?”

Sverrir nodded, “He is.”

“But that would mean there’s one outlaw for every hundred members of society. That’s 40,000 people living outside the law!”

Frigga’s eyes widened, “That cannot be correct, there cannot be that many Aesir who are so depraved that outlawing them is the only answer.”

“Agreed,” said Tyr, “There must be something wrong with those numbers.”

“Or something wrong with the system,” said Loki.

“The laws are clear!” Forseti said.

“They have been unchanged for millennia. They were written long before we had our Golden Apples, before we became immortals. How can we know they still work? How can we even be sure they are still remembered right?” Loki asked, keeping his calm. That clarity of mind was doing wonders for his temper.

“Wasn’t the point of outlawing that eventually the outlaw would die, by starvation, injury or other means?” Sverrir asked Forseti, “How can that work when we are all now so mighty and healthy and fed with the apples that no one dies outside of battle?”

“The outlaws do not have the privilege of receiving Idunn’s Apples. They will all die eventually.” said Bragi, “My wife receives letters from every village in the realm with the names of each person to receive an apple.”

“So, essentially, as was always intended, outlawing is a slow death sentence, made longer by the lasting effects of the apples,” Sverrir scowled.

“You disapprove of this Sverrir?” asked Loki arching an eyebrow.

“I am not inclined towards torture,” Sverrir’s tone was blunt, “I detest the idea of causing anyone suffering beyond reason.”

“Not beyond, they are criminals, they must be punished,” said Loki.

Sverrir frowned at him, “But your majesty, you said to me only yesterday you intended to rehabilitate them.”

Loki inclined his head. “I did. And I meant it. But not for every outlaw.”

Tyr leaned forward, “Majesty, criminals are criminals. To rehabilitate them is only to invite the likelihood of them committing a crime again.”

“Tyr, do you really think outlawing every person for every crime is sensible? You know the laws better than I, is that what our laws demand? That a petty theft is answered with a death sentence in this age when we are short of nothing, even if in some parts of the realm things are not as abundant as we have here?”

“Excuse me majesty,” Freyr interceded before Tyr could reply, “But are we here to discuss a reform of the law, or are we here to discuss what to do about the current overabundance of outlaws? Both are large issues and it would be helpful if we had a clear focus.”

Loki thought carefully for a moment, during which Sverrir said,

“Is the outlawing not a symptom of the issues with the law? If we combat the law, then wouldn’t we deal with the outlaws in the same stroke?”

Delling shook his head. “We might reform the laws to prevent so many outlawings but that would not deal with the outlaws the land already has roaming around.”

Loki tapped his fingers against Gungnir, thinking.

“My king,” Frigga said gently, “What has motivated you to ask about these issues?”

In that moment, Loki was grateful to have his mother with him. “The death of Fasta Gudsteinsdóttir has troubled me greatly, both in her outlawing itself, and in the manner of her death. Both of these things I want to address, but the more immediate interest I have is in dealing with the gangs of outlaws that now plague the land. If Mýrkjartan is right, if there really are that many, I am afraid that it will result in raiding and murder now that Odin is no longer on the throne. It’s amazing they have not caused more trouble.”

“You fear they are too great a number,” stated Frigga.

“Exactly. Although they are not inclined towards working together, what would stop them if they realised just how many there are? Asgard’s standing army is dispersed in these times of peace, men and boys play at battle for sport, but they are not trained to fight a raid as they were during the wars. The outlaws are without codes of honour and without them, they have no reason not to cause harm.”

Tyr raised an eyebrow at Loki who clenched his hand around Gungnir and silently dared him to say something cutting. Tyr wisely remained silent. 

“So… what do you intend to do with them if they are rounded up?” asked Frigga.

“Once we have them, we will discover why they were outlawed via the records from their home village. If the crime was minor, then I will offer them a chance to regain their honour. Should they accept they will pledge their loyalty to me and begin a process of redemption.”

“And what of those who refuse or who have committed crimes too grave?” asked Delling.

“Well what would you suggest?” asked Loki. He had been pondering this issue for some time, and while he was not against a real punishment, he was unsure what would be appropriate.

“Well, you seem set on removing them from the land, so perhaps it is a case of pledge to you or die.” Tyr suggested, “It has been found that those who are threatened with death and then spared by the same man often cleave to him.”

“Seems excessive and bloody,” muttered Sverrir.

“Afraid of blood Kvasisson?” asked Tyr.

“No! But I don’t think Loki wants to be seen as a tyrannical brute.”

“ _King_ Loki, boy! You will not be so familiar again!” Forseti snapped.

“Enough.” Loki’s hand cut through the air. “Sverrir is right, I have no wish to be seen as a blood-bathing berserker. However, I know Asgardians want no king who is seen as weak, and I am not afraid to make my point in blood if I must, though I would prefer to be merciful to those who deserve it.”

The men were quiet for a moment, thinking.

“Pledge or die does not always work,” muttered Hoder, “Some would feel it is insulting to their pride. It might burn resentment in their hearts.”

“Death is sometimes not good enough, it is almost a kindness to the lowest scum,” said Tyr.

“And we’re back to torture,” said Sverrir.

“Let us establish first of all that this is a sound plan,” said Freyr. “Majesty, what exactly would you do with the outlaws if they agree to your terms?”

“First of all I would have them brought to good health and given safe beds. Give them dignity, food and some consideration. I would have Tyr and his best men begin to train them –first just to make them fit, and then as warriors,” said Loki.

Frigga’s eyes widened, “You want to make them into an army.”

“I want to make them into a loyal regiment,” Loki corrected quickly. “The force of my father meant that a standing army was almost unnecessary. I cannot rely on this myself. I will need men who are totally loyal to me, and I want the outlaws handled with intelligence. So why not make these lost men loyal to me by giving them a chance of regaining their honour, being brought back into the law, having homes and families of their own?”

“What about the women?”

“What?” asked Loki.

“The women,” Sverrir repeated, “At least a quarter of the outlaws are women, what are you going to do with them? If anything they will accept your offer before any man, it will give them safety from rapists, perhaps give their children homes, what will you do with them?”

Loki bit his lower lip, “Could we not apply the same process to them? They pledge loyalty to me, they are given food and shelter-”

“You can’t think that you’ll put them into training with the men?” said Delling.

“Why not?” asked Sverrir, “Lady Sif was one of our best warriors, and I would not be stunned if there are plenty of women just as capable in Asgard.”

“Sif was indulged because she was Prince Thor’s friend.”

“She certainly proved herself though.” said Sverrir. “And what of the Valkyrior, were they not mighty women?”

“The Valkyrior have not been seen since Odin swore an oath to the Celestials, they are nothing to do with us anymore,” said Delling

Loki frowned, “What? What oath?”

Everyone looked around at him, but Sverrir was the only one who matched Loki’s confusion.

“Your father swore an oath to the Celestials, which robbed the Valkyrior of their purpose. They have not been seen since, for they remain in Valhalla.”

“The Celestials?” Loki wracked his brain for any knowledge of the Celestials, but he could only remember a brief memory when he was a child, of beings more powerful than the Norns or even Odin. He had dismissed it as a myth, even back then. “They are real?”

“Yes your majesty, they are very real, but like the Norns, they have long been unseen,” said Kvasir.

“I’ve never heard of them,” said Sverrir.

“There are texts, among the ones the Ljósálfar gave us which tell of them. I shall find it for you majesty,” said Kvasir.

Loki frowned, tapping his fingers on Gungnir in an empty rhythm. “That is something that has been bothering me for a while now. Up until I became king, I had never been interested in certain areas of knowledge, the history before the War with Jötunheim, the way of life on other realms, and when I went looking for it there was none. Why is our library so uneven in its content? There is much on the greatness of Asgard, but what of the other realms? I shouldn’t have to travel to them to gain insight into them if Asgard is meant to be the head and centre as is often claimed.”

Kvasir sighed, “Majesty, the reason is simple. The Library of Asgard, as well as the Archives, were set ablaze before you were born. We were only able to save the books on Asgard because they were easiest to reach.”

Both Loki and Sverrir boggled at him.

“How have we never known this?” demanded Loki.

“Because it was forgotten about when the war began. The blaze was set by a sorceress, at around the same time the Jötnar invaded Midgard.”

“A sorceress?”

“A powerful, spiteful woman called Gróa Geirmundardóttir, the traitor of Vanaheim.”

“I’ve never heard of her.” Loki looked at Freyr who pursed his lips in disgust.

“We never speak of her,” he said curtly.

Loki burned with curiosity, but Kvasir cut in, “That is for another time I think. Let us return to the matter at hand, the outlaws.”

“I think there is merit in the idea,” Tyr said carefully, “Helping men regain their honour is a worthy cause, and I support it.”

“But what about the women?” demanded Sverrir.

“And where will they be put?” asked Bragi.

Loki looked at Frigga, “What do you think my lady? Do you agree with Sverrir?”

Frigga gave him a smile that appeared mild, except her eyes sparked with mischief. “I think it has been shown enough times that women are just as good at being warriors if they wish to be. Let them train with the men, but allow them to sleep somewhere where they will be safe from any ill-intentioned men.”

“What if someone is not suited to fighting, man or woman?” Loki wondered, “It’s all very well for me to plan an army, but not every person is a warrior. What do I do with them?”

“They could be put to some other work.”

“What status would they have? Will you give them in-law status upon their swearing an oath to you?” asked Forseti.

“No, but I would bring them under my protection. A kind of temporary thraldom or bond, wherein they have to work hard and prove themselves to me to earn their in-law status once more. Once they had done so, they will earn money for their work, they can have their own house and raise a family.”

Hoder shifted forward, “I have a suggestion. You intend for them to be brought here and restored to health and made fit. Would that time be enough for Tyr to determine if they are suited to fighting or not?”

Tyr nodded, “Yes, I believe so.”

“Then once they have been assessed by keen eyes, a decision about their placement can be made.”

“I think they should work as well,” said Delling, “They should be put to tasks, menial work. Earn their keep, or else it’s far too much of a favour.”

“Why not give the men and women the same tasks!” Sverrir said excitedly, “Men and women could make wool, could clean and cook.”

“You would have men act as women?” barked Tyr.

“You think something low about women’s tasks?” asked Frigga with a faint smirk.

No one dared say yes to that to their former queen. Loki hid a grin.

“I think we’ve discussed enough for now,” said Loki, “It is agreed? We will attempt to rehabilitate the outlaws?”

They all nodded with caution, as if unsure what to make of Loki’s question.

“I want you all to work on the details. Delling, think of somewhere to put them, if you have to build a barracks, you may. Forseti, you are to write an oath for these people to swear to me. I want it precise and clear. Tyr, plan a regime for when they arrive, and work with Forseti and Hoder on what kinds of methods we could use to deal with obstinate behaviour and what to do with those who are unworthy of this chance. Freyr, I want you and Sverrir to consider possible work for them to do. Is that clear?”

“Yes your majesty,” they chorused.

“Good. Let’s get this started as quickly as possible if we can. Now, next item, the issue of my marriage.” Loki was not blushing, he wasn’t!

“Actually majesty, we were hoping you would allow us another day or two to consider it –ultimately it is your choice, but we have had no time to consider it, not with everything that has been happening,” said Delling.

“And we think we need to address how to explain recent events to the people. Rumours abound, and they will only grow wilder once you’re seen as… as you are now.” Bragi made a vague turn in the air with his hand.

Loki hid his frustration. He was running out of time to make a formal proposition to the King and Queen of Vanaheim, but he knew he had to let the councillors do their jobs. So he waved a hand in agreement. In the end they decided that Bragi would compose an announcement that Loki would approve and it would be distributed to every village and town in the realm, explaining recent events in a simple and clear manner which put the king in the best light.

“It’s a pity that we do not do as the Vanir do,” said Freyr once Bragi had taken notes from Loki, who felt he was making a big concession letting Bragi do the composing for him. “We have a device which allows them to make a speech and have it be seen by everyone in the world at the same time.”

“Such a thing would damage the aura of Asgard’s King. He needs to be aloof. This would make him too accessible to the people,” said Delling.

“Would that be so bad?” Loki asked, “Maybe if people saw me more and heard me speak to them directly, even through a machine or a spell, then they would feel that I am caring for the whole realm?”

“That may work for Vanaheim, where there’s always the threat of civil war, but on Asgard, the might of the king is understood.”

Loki decided that could be debated another day.

“Anything else?” he asked.

“Nothing that cannot wait until you have rested,” said Kvasir quickly.

“Oh there was something about the generals from the War,” said Sverrir.

“Ah, yes. Thank you Sverrir. I shall do that in a few days. And one more thing comes to mind. As you all know, the Ostara festival is going to be upon us in less than two months. I’ve invited both Princess Sigyn and Queen Aetril and her son to our celebrations. And since I never had a coronation, I think we should do something about that, don’t you?”

“You wish to combine the festival and a celebration of your accession?”

“I rather think I’ve earned it, don’t you?” Loki raised an eyebrow and smirked faintly.

“Of course you have!” Sverrir exclaimed.

“Of course,” Bragi agreed, “I shall see to it at once. If we are to celebrate your accession, maybe we ought to invite ambassadors from the other realms.”

“Look into it,” said Loki. “Now, if that’s all, I’m going to get something to eat and then go to bed.”

**~*~**

After eating in his chambers alone, Loki sat down and wrote a letter to Sigyn, detailing everything that had been happening in the past few days, his metamorphosis, his clarity about Odin, and his mother, Bergdís. He also asked her if she knew anything about this Gróa Geirmundardóttir who had burned down the library. He poured everything out, including his regret that he had been cruel to her, admitting she was right about his children, and the fact was that she had been the one who had actually started their relationship all those centuries ago when she had kissed him for the very first time.

As he sent the very long letter off into subspace, he sat back and remembered the day she had kissed him. There had been a fight between her and Sif, first words, and then fists. Thor and Fandral only interfered when Sif, with a quick hand and a sharp pull had managed to rip Sigyn’s dress so she was naked from the waist up. Sif had been more embarrassed by her actions than Sigyn, who had been so furious she had barely noticed until Loki, hovering in the background, rushed forward and wrapped his cloak around her.

He had dragged her away from the fight and calmed her down, clumsily wiping her tears away, insulting Sif, even though he was pretty sure Sigyn had started the fight, and making terrible jokes to make her laugh, which eventually worked. That had been the moment when she had come close to him, and, oh, how mortifyingly aware he had been of her breasts as they pressed against his chest through his cloak, his mind still seeing them bared to the sunlight after Sif pulled on her dress. 

“Loki, my Loki. So sweet and silly,” she had murmured, his cloak slipping off her shoulders as she wrapped her arms around his back. Loki, blushing and with a short circuiting brain, had said nothing. Then she had kissed him, not lightly or carefully, but a full blown wet kiss that had set fireworks off behind his eyes as he kissed her back. Not exactly a usual first kiss, considering the girl had been half naked. And afterwards Loki had decided that Sif was entirely to blame for the fight and she needed to be punished. Now that he thought about it, maybe ruining her hair hadn’t been the fairest response, but Loki had been very young and very dazed from the kiss, surely that justified it, at least now after so much time.

A faint frown crossed his face as he wondered what Sigyn would make of his new body. He had no fears of her being displeased, but she would not be happy about the loss of his scar from Fenrir anymore than he was. Idly his hand brushed over the spot and he sighed as there was no jump of nerves or any tug at his innards from where Sigyn had not quite bound everything right.    

“The loss of the scar means nothing compared to the wound in your heart over his suffering.”

Loki went ridged. The female voice was unfamiliar, deep and imposing, but as the lights in his room flickered and the air seemed to thicken, he knew who it was.

“It cannot be,” he murmured, refusing to turn around.

“It can be,” was the reply. “Turn around… father.”

Loki slowly turned enough to peer over his shoulder. On the other side of the room, shrouded in shadows that had no source, stood a woman. Tall with floor length black hair, and the skin not covered by a fitted green dress could have been made of moonlight. She had her mother’s strong build and her father’s colouring, just the opposite of her older brother. She wore a veil that covered the left half her face, and a glove on her left hand, hiding decaying skin. And on her head she wore a crown with horns. 

“Hel.” Loki breathed, staring at his daughter.

Hel smirked at him, “Greetings Father-King.” 


	36. The Advice of A Daughter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hel Lokadóttir takes matters into her own hands and sets about healing her family.

Something twisted in Loki’s stomach and he dropped his eyes. “Hel… what are you doing here?”

Hel’s feet moved soundlessly across the floor, moving in a curve towards him, “I sensed what happened to you, and I wanted to come see you.”

Loki did not dare make the obvious reply of ‘ _why not come before_ ’ as he glanced up at his daughter all grown up. For over a thousand years his abiding memory was of a tiny girl with a bright eye and grey skin. Now she stood taller than him, and her good eye was sharp and clever, no more innocent wonder. The air was thick with a cloying scent, there were shadows all over his walls from the orbs of light around him. Hel had taken over his room by simply entering it.

“I…”

Hel’s smirk widened, half hidden behind her veil, “This must have felt like the longest day of your life.”

“No. That will always be the days I was-” Loki stopped himself, his eyes looking everywhere but at Hel. She finished his sentence for him.

“When you were with mother.”

Loki nodded. “The worst… the worst was when you were born. You cried and cried all day and night and I could never make you better.”

“My body wasn’t capable of tolerating the environment of Asgard,” said Hel in a quiet, almost thoughtful tone. Loki closed his eyes. He was not prepared for this moment in any way and he did not know what to do. He expected more from himself, for him to try and make this better, easier, happier. But it would be a lie, and he could not do that usually simple thing to his daughter.

How many times had he imagined this moment, coming face to face with his daughter and being reunited? In all those times, it had never been like this.

“Look at me father.”

Loki swallowed and obeyed. What else could he do? Hel stared at him with a probing dark eye,

“Why are you so afraid of me? I have watched you from my realm, you are not easily frightened.”

Loki swallowed, “I can’t remember your face from when you were a baby.”

Hel’s expression shifted slightly. “What do you mean?”

“I thought I had a perfect memory of your face, that I could recall every detail of it. But I don’t recognise the face before me. Which means I forgot.” Loki sank into his chair and covered his face with his hand.

“Father-”

“Don’t call me that!” Loki snapped.

“Why not? You are my father.”

“What good is blood when I failed you so badly?”

There was a moment of silence, as Hel crossed the room and stood before him and began to speak,

“When I was born, you held me to your bare chest and promised me I would feel the sun on my skin someday.”

Loki looked up and stared at her. Hel was looking at her own reflection over his head, “When I was a day old, you taught Jörmungandr how to bathe me. When I was a week old and suffering with pain you fought with mother, demanding she help me, and she refused, saying that I had to be observed.”

Loki licked his lips, “What good are a few memories in comparison to a lifetime of abandonment?”

“Father, you forget I am Queen of Niflheim. When I was placed in that realm, I became a being that had always existed. Niflheim existed to hold me, so that I might be born and make Niflheim into existence. So I was already infinitely older than you when I was born.”

Loki nodded, half remembering a time when he had tried to explain the temporal uniqueness of Niflheim to Thor. The big oaf had gone puce with confusion when Loki had used the words _temporal causality loop_.

“Father, I looked from my throne to you, and I saw you rear me. I saw you weep for my pain and I saw you kill my mother to save my life. And I have seen you and Princess Sigyn talk of me countless times… is she my step-mother?”

Loki blinked hard and then burst out laughing.

“Oh! Sigyn would be delighted to hear you call her that.”

Hel nodded, the corner of her lips quirking up. “I imagine so, she has a strong nurturing instinct… it is a shame she is constantly denied the ultimate experience of actually raising a child.”

Loki’s humour vanished at once and he looked at Hel, drinking her in. “Oh Hela…”

As his pet version of her name fell from his lips, he got to his feet and reached out a hand, pulling aside the veil, and revealing the decaying skin, the cataract eye and the exposed teeth of Hel’s dead side.

“Look at you… my baby, my daughter. A queen and a woman. You’re remarkable.”

Hel’s face softened into a smile, “Father.”

“Hela, I’m so sorry.”

“For what?”

Loki blinked, wrong footed by the gentle question. “I should have found a way to help you. I should have been there to raise you. I should have come to find you in Niflheim.”

Hel regarded him calmly, and reached up with her gloved hand, touching his cheek very lightly. “Father… you have to understand I am so much older than you are now. You will never be as old as me. And I see things in a way you never will. You see into a god’s lifetime, which a mortal will never comprehend, but I see even wider.”

Loki turned his face into her touch, “I don’t understand.”

“You fear I feel abandoned, you fear I do not know you love me, and you fear that I hate you for never coming to see me. But father, you could not have come to Niflheim with me. Once you are a part of it, it doesn’t let go. Even I can only leave for brief moments before I must return. If you had taken me, it is likely Fenrir would have died inside you. You could never come to see me, you had to let me go so we could both survive.”

Loki’s lip curled in disgust, “Survive… so Fenrir could be chained and suffer, and I never get to see you.”

“I have become strong enough to leave for a short while. I can come see you now.”

Loki frowned, “That seems… convenient.”

Hel smiled, “You don’t believe me?”

“I don’t believe that after one thousand and twenty two years I suddenly get a magical enhancement and my daughter in my arms, after a surprisingly easy meeting with my councillors. It’s all very… heart-warming.” The sneer on Loki’s face felt exaggerated, ugly, under his daughter’s fingers.

Hel nodded, “I can understand that. You’ve always been naturally suspicious. In fact the only person you don’t suspect of having an ulterior motive is your wife.”

Loki narrowed his eyes, “Meaning?”

Hel sighed, “I meant nothing by it. I just meant I can understand why you would feel suspicious. You expected me to rage at you, to hate you, to justify your feelings of failure… almost make it worthwhile your feeling that way because it was true. You can’t imagine that I would honestly accept my fate, even be content with it, because you resented it so much. You were denied the opportunity to raise any of your children, and felt we should feel as angry as you. But how could I resent you giving me to Niflheim, my destiny, the realm that I brought into existence when the universe began? You gave me life so I could make a place for the dead to reside.”

Loki turned away, leaning on his desk and dropping his chin to his chest. “It wasn’t fair! I wanted to raise you, and your brothers. But I lost you all through fate or my own actions.”

Hel’s healthy hand, with perfect nails, rested on his shoulder, “Father, I would have loved to have been raised by you. But I am not suffering, and I have not suffered since I was placed in my realm. If I had stayed here, I would have been in agony all my days. Would you have wished that on me?”

Loki felt his eyes stinging and he wiped at his cheeks, trying to hide his face, “No. Never.”

“You are tired father, come and rest.”

Loki shook his head, resisting the pressure on his shoulder, “This isn’t real. It can’t be. This is my new magic tricking my mind by giving me what I want.”

“If it was really your magic and your wish, would I not be a babe, with perfect skin all over?”

“I never cared what you looked like,” hissed Loki, “I only wanted you to be happy.”

“And I am.”

“Without me!” Loki burst out. “You were better off without me! If Fenrir had another father he would be better off too. If Jörmungandr had another father, he would be a prince of Asgard, not a serpent in the bowels of Midgard.”

Hel sighed and Loki found himself being held by her. Her right side was warm, the left was a damp cold. Her half lips pressed against his temple and then she nudged his brow with hers.

“Father… I came because your actions, your transformation, have sent ripples through the universe. And you must be prepared to deal with that. People will come for the casket, and they will come for you.”

Loki let out a broken laugh, “That makes more sense. My baby girl comes to see me, proving she never needed me, to tell me instead of getting things right, I’ve gotten them wrong. Yes, now I can believe this is real.”

Hel sighed, “Father…”

“I love you Hel, my little Hela,” said Loki, clinging to her, inhaling the smell of her skin. She still smelled the same as she had when she was a baby, of decay and warmth that mingled awkwardly.

“And I love you father, my brave, clever father.” Hel tugged him to his bed and helped him lie down. “I can’t stay much longer father, I have to return to Niflheim soon.”

Loki grabbed her healthy wrist, holding it tight. “Wait! I can see if Sigyn is able to meet you. She’d be so happy to see you.”

Hel smiled softly and sat next to him. “Father, I will come and see you again. And I would be happy to meet Princess Sigyn. But tonight I will have to go soon. I have one thing left to tell you.”

Loki sat up, “What?”

Hel’s face became serious, “Fenrir, you wish to free him.”

“Yes, I will free him, and I will restore him. Do not say that I cannot.”

“You can,” Hel reassured him, “But you must be willing to cause harm to another for it.”

Loki frowned, then his expression cleared, “The dark thread between Fenrir and Odin.”

Hel nodded, “Yes. That thread is connected to the collar around Fenrir’s neck. It is an evil tool, it feeds off Odin’s fear and anger, his worries over what could threaten his realm, his family, and all of it wraps around Fenrir. That is why he is what he is now. It is not how he was meant to be at all. He was always going to be a mighty wolf when he wished, like Jörmungandr is a mighty serpent, but he was never meant to be a monster.”

“I’ve touched that collar a thousand times since it was put on him. I never sensed anything like that.”

“Did you sense the thread in Odin when you touched him before?”

Loki shook his head. Hel nodded, “Father, you’ve altered, become more than you were before, it’s heightened your senses. You can sense more than you could before.”

Loki thought hard, eyes narrowing, “Does Odin know? Does Frigga know?”

“Afi Odin and Amma Frigga have no idea,” said Hel. She grimaced and curled her fingers into the blanket. “I must go. The air…”

“Wait! Where did the collar come from? I thought it was made by Brokkr, but why would he make such a thing?”

“I don’t know. You must find out.”

“How do I undo the damage? How do I free Fenrir from this spell?”

“I’m not sure. It could be as simple as removing the collar. But I doubt it. All that rage and hate and fear must go somewhere.” Hel backed away, gently tugging her wrist from his grasp. “I have to go father.”

“Hela, stay a few more minutes, please.” Loki climbed off the bed to follow her.

“I will come back,” Hel promised, avoiding his reaching hand. “Goodbye father.”

“Hel!” Loki grabbed for her, but she was gone and all he caught was air. His breathing was the only sound left in the room.

“Hela…” he whispered, but there was no reply. His chest expanded as he gasped for air, but the room seemed devoid of it. He staggered back to his bed and lay down, curling up into a ball. He lay very still and reimagined Hel’s hand upon his face.

His daughter, all grown up, a regal and powerful queen. She was happy, or at least content with what she had become and what life had been dealt to her. And she had created something out of it. A place for the dead to go that was neither punishment nor glory, a place for the average person to go, where they would be at peace and rest until Ragnarok.

When Loki had awoken after a month’s delirium and sleep, flushed with magic-fever, after Odin had brought him home, Odin had explained what had happened to his son and daughter. He had told him about what had happened when he had placed Hel in Niflheim.

_“I went down into the boundaries of Niflheim, and approached the place where death and life meet. As I stepped closer, Hel seemed to settle in my arms, in a way not even your mother or Eir could achieve with her. She turned her head towards the boundary, and I saw a ripple in the air. A stirring in the realm where nothing stirs. I almost turned away, concerned that Hel would be harmed, but she reached out both hands towards it… and I knew she had to go there. So I held her out and her hands touched the barrier._

_“At once there was a flash of light, and in an instant I saw the birth of the universe before my eyes. As it grew Hel was there, and she grew with it, from babe to woman. As regal as a queen, she called upon the forces of the forging universe and wrapped it around her form. The forces seemed to morph into the dimension of Niflheim, crafted to match her unique form. And then everything returned to as it was before, and I stood on one side of the barrier, and Hel stood on the other side, with a grand crown of horns, and a green gown. With her good eye she looked straight at me, and she smiled at me.”_

And here Loki remembered that Odin had rested his hand on Loki’s shoulder, squeezing it and the closest thing to a sentimental smile Loki had ever seen on his face as he said,

_“Loki, she has your smile.”_

Loki let out a sharp laugh as he realised Odin was right. Hel did have his smile. He had not been able to imagine Hel smiling at all, she had cried from the moment she was born until the last moment Loki had seen her. He realised he had always imagined her crying whenever he had thought of her, but that was not the case, she was not suffering. In fact she had thrived.

As he lay there, Loki realised that he no longer felt the pain of her loss, at least not in the strength he had nursed for so long. In its place, a new emotion was growing. Pride. He was so proud of his daughter.

Just wait until he told Sigyn she was an acknowledged step-mother to the Queen of Niflheim.

**~*~**

It was almost the height of winter in the land known as Antarctica, and pitch black save for the faint light of stars and the moon above, with occasional flickers of green. A group of emperor penguin males huddled together for warmth, oblivious to the lights above them growing brighter and more intense. They did not even notice the figure of a woman descending from a bright flash of purple among the green and landing on the ice with light feet.

Hel looked around with her good eye, unbothered by the howling winds or the ice chips blowing all around her, as she walked across the ice. She extended her senses, searching for a distinctly large emission of life, somewhere at the bottom of the ocean beneath her. Eventually she came to a stop and waved a hand in front of her. A large hole appeared in the ice, melting all the way down to the bottom. Hel called up a small ball of green energy and dropped it down the hole.

Then she waited, watching the penguins shift in a simple rotation to give every member of their flock a chance to be in the centre of the warmth. With her own instincts, natural and well honed, she could see which of these males would die before the sun rose again, and which would be bitterly disappointed that their eggs did not hatch.

A low rumble caught her attention and she looked back to the hole. Something was making its way up the opening. Her lips curled into a smirk as the rumbling grew louder and louder, until, with a faint pop, a huge head emerged from the hole. Scaly, with fangs curling over the bottom lip, the huge serpent turned his ruby red eyes to her.

“Jörmungandr, brother,” Hel called, holding out her good hand. “We must speak.”

Jörmungandr snorted, the sound like a small sonic boom, and the penguins all squawked in alarm. Jörmungandr started to slither back down into his hole and Hel growled.

“Jörmungandr, get out here now!”

Jörmungandr may be a huge beast now, but Hel was not Queen of Niflheim because of fate alone. With a small gesture of her hand Jörmungandr was pulled by invisible hands back up the tunnel, his head going higher and higher into the sky as more and more of his body was pulled through.

“Brother, the ice may be thick, but you are the largest being in this realm, and I rather think the humans will be upset if you break their continent.” Hel called in a light tone.

Jörmungandr snarled, thrashed, but he could do nothing against Hel, and eventually he sagged. Hel watched with mild fascination as he seemed to go very still for a few moments, then his tail emerged from the tunnel and he continued to gradually shrink. Eventually he was as long as a tall man, and his body started to alter. His scales receded into pale skin, arms and legs separated from a central body, and the pointed face squashed backwards into the head.

Once he was back in his Aesir form, Hel freed Jörmungandr of her magic and he landed in a crouch, hissing in discomfort.

“This form is unused,” he rasped at her over the wind as she approached.

“It has indeed been a long time since you have been this way.” Hel examined her brother as he rose to his feet. He was light grey in colour, with red eyes and black hair matted on his head. His stubborn refusal to leave his snake form had slowed his aging hugely, so although he ought to be a fully grown man, he appeared as a youth, lanky and awkward as he folded his arms across his naked chest.

“What you want?” he spat, voice craggy and hoarse.

“I want you to forgive our father,” said Hel without hesitation.

Jörmungandr turned away at once, walking towards the hole. Hel reached out and grabbed his bicep, pulling him back.

“Hear me brother!”

“Father killed mother,” spat Jörmungandr. “Hate him!”

“To save us! To save me,” snapped Hel, “We were children who had never felt the sun on our faces, and father wanted to give us that. He was little more than a child himself, held prisoner by our mother to be a toy for her amusement.”

Jörmungandr threw Hel’s hand off, but he turned to her.

“Monster! Father ate her heart.”

“He had no choice, it was the only way to get away. He ate her heart to take control of her seiðr, to undo all the concealments around us, in time for Odin to find us.” Hel softened her voice and reached out her hand. “And through that terrible act he gave us another brother.”

“Brother?” Jörmungandr tilted his head to the side, thinking hard for a moment. Then he nodded slowly, “Fenrir.”

“Yes, I told you of him.”

Jörmungandr nodded again. As he calmed down, his movements slowed to a crawl. Even as a warm blooded being Jörmungandr had a reptile’s slow movements except when he was angry. He was quiet, very thoughtful, if a bit primitive in his thoughts and words, but he had only been five when he had retreated into his serpent form. In many ways he still was a five year old.

“Fenrir hurts,” Jörmungandr growled, “Afi hurt him.”

“Afi did not do it by choice,” said Hel gently. It amused her to call Odin ‘grandfather’, after watching him grow up and become the King of Asgard. She had often imagined the look on her Uncle Thor’s face if she walked into the Hall and called Odin by the title, not to mention all those around her father’s court.

Maybe one day.

“Brother,” Hel reasserted herself in the present, holding out her good hand, “Our father longs to have us back. He tried to find you, I watched as you fled from him, ignoring his pleas for forgiveness.”

Jörmungandr looked sullen, dropping his head and turning away. Hel stepped closer. “Jörmungandr, you know in your head and in your heart that our father loves us, and he is willing to admit he was not a perfect father… but I will not have him say he failed us because you cannot forgive him for giving you freedom.”

“He wasn’t there,” Jörmungandr muttered, long hand tugging at his matt of hair. “Killed mother, then left us with Afi and Amma, in that big golden place.”

“He was sick. He could not see anything but nightmares and delusions as mother’s seiðr poisoned him. When Fenrir was born he was better. If you had not run away so soon you would have seen that.”

“You left too.” Jörmungandr sat on the rim of the tunnel, legs dangling over the seven thousand foot drop.

“Oh you cannot blame me, I was already in Niflheim when I was brought there, not to mention that I was a baby in Afi’s arms and dying of pain. You could have stayed, but you were angry and wanted to punish father. But you’ve hurt him enough, and he loves us. You are the only one of his children who is free to go to him now and embrace him. And you would deny yourself his love to be spiteful?”

Jörmungandr said nothing for a long time, long enough for the penguins to resettle. Hel waited patiently. Then Jörmungandr sighed,

“Think about it.”

Without another word he slid over the rim, already morphing into his serpent form. Hel sighed and stepped back, waiting until she heard a splash before sealing the hole up. She knew that this could not be rushed, and that her father needed time to get used to himself again, before Jörmungandr reappeared, and Jörmungandr’s slow nature would ensure it would not be too soon. But at least she had made some progress towards helping her family.

For centuries Hel had wanted to go to her father, to save Fenrir, to bridge peace with Jörmungandr, but she was not a politician, the dead do not rebel or demand anything of her, and she gives them the care she can, and she was reluctant to cause her father more pain by revealing the truth. Besides which, Hel had only recently discovered the truth about Fenrir’s binding, from a frightened soul who had come to her needing to confess. The soul had only admitted that she had been privy to the ordering of the collar, had overheard what the purpose of it was.

Fenrir was fated to battle someone and defeat them, but it wasn’t Odin. But the intended person was powerful enough to alter the original prophecy, replacing their name with the All-father’s. As soon as the collar had been in Odin’s hands it had begun to play on his fears and anger, very quietly and gently pulling at them for centuries, until Fenrir had been born. By then the collar’s magic had made Odin incapable of seeing anything but the creature he so feared, even if all he appeared as was a helpless pup.

Hel had realised that things had been left to fester too long, as was the most common problem with the immortal, and decided that as death was the most dramatic of forces to wrought change, so she would act to help her family. Perhaps her father could forgive her grandfather for what had been done to Fenrir, for Odin, although mighty, was not infallible. He was a man, and men make mistakes, just as Loki had, as Thor had, so had Odin. And in this he had been tricked by powerful seiðr.

Surely it could be forgiven? 


	37. The Six Happiness Women

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sigyn takes a stand with her matrons and her companions step up to her challenge.

Sigyn made sure to be up and dressed before the Svana and Ey walked into the bedchambers. They found she had taken all her dresses out of her wardrobe and had spelled them to float before her. Her curtains were open to let the light in and Sigyn was having them appear before her in a single file.

“Yes. No. No. No. Yes. Yes,” she muttered, glancing at the stunned women for a moment before refocusing. The clothes she said yes to went back into the wardrobe and the ones she rejected were piling up on her bed.

“Mikilfengleg Kona?” Ey Sétti asked, sounding worried. “Are you well?”

“I’m fine Sétti, I’m just clearing my wardrobe,” said Sigyn with a mild smile. She was wearing a plain white dress, the simplest thing she had, and she was throwing some very beautiful dresses away. Svana Þrír looked like she was close to a coronary as a gold silk dress was thrown aside.

“Sigyn,” Svana Ein said with a touch of impatience, “This is not how these garments should be treated.”

“If it upsets you so much, pick them up,” said Sigyn, knowing she sounded rather bratty, but she was determined to win this argument. “I’m tired of these dresses. They’re all so similar. I want some new clothes.”

She glanced at the Ey, “You girls can take them for yourselves if you want.”

The Ey’s eyes widened as they looked at the growing mountain of fabric, but the look on Svana Þrír’s face made them stay put.

“Sigyn,” That tone of Svana Ein’s was really starting to strain. “These dresses are very expensive, and they were made for you-”

“I’ve worn them many times over the years. Am I not allowed to upgrade?” Sigyn asked, tapping her lips with a fingertip as she pondered a blue dress. She decided to keep it, just as Svana Ein said,                 

“Sigyn, you cannot just-”

Sigyn snapped around to glare at the woman, fury burning her face, “Am I not your princess? What gives you the right to command me in anything?”

Svana Ein’s mouth snapped shut and she swallowed, eyes wide. Sigyn snapped her fingers, making a thin document jump into her hands. “I found this in the archives yesterday. It details the obligations and duties of the Svana and the Ey, signed by you, Svana Tveir and Svana Þrír, and I found something interesting. Now that I have come of age, and have long been that way, I am the one who decides what I do. You have absolutely no say in what I wear, eat, or do.”

Svana Ein paled as Sigyn stepped closer, the book held up as evidence, her voice dropping to a hiss,

“Did this slip your mind Svana Ein? Or did you fancy yourself a ruler, dominating me? I pray it’s the former, because I have the power to dismiss you as my Svana and make one of the Ey Svana in your place.”

“Sigyn,” Svana Ein started, her voice trembling slightly.

“Enough!” snapped Sigyn, holding the document up. “You have abused your power for our own selfish desires. You purposely kept this information from me, so that you could keep me under your control.”

“No!” cried Svana Ein, “I have served you faithfully since the day you were born. All I have ever done is care for you Sigyn.”

“By locking me in a glass cage!” Sigyn spat, “You kept me away from anything that might have slipped me from your noose, because keeping me cowed and under your thumb made life easier for you!” She threw the document across the room. “You never wanted to care for me, you just wanted the fame and status being my first Svana would afford you!”

“That’s enough!” Svana Ein’s hand lifted as if to strike her.

“Svana Ein!” shrieked Ey Fyrstr. Svana Ein froze, hand still raised, eyes wide with horror as she looked from her hand to Sigyn’s impassive face.

“I…” she gasped, dropping her hand. “Sigyn, I would never… I swear I wouldn’t-”

“No,” said Sigyn coldly, “You’d rather play mind games, they don’t leave a mark.”

“Sigyn, please,” uttered Svana Ein, “I have raised you, cared for you like a daughter. You're so precious to me, to Vanaheim, and I had to keep you safe. Have you any idea how hard that is?”

Sigyn tried to hold onto her rage, but she could feel it being unpicked by Svana Ein’s words. She drew herself up, Berach had said she needed to have a core of certainty, she could not let pleading eyes sway her. The law had been abused, she had been abused by this, and she would not let it go on.

“You will not be dismissed,” she said in a low voice, “But neither will you have the power you did. From now on, I am the one who will decide everything, where I go, what I do, wear and eat. You will keep your mouth shut unless I ask for your opinion. I will never let you order me around again!”

Svana Ein rocked back minutely, genuine shock on her face, then she nodded in understanding.

“Yes Sigyn.”

“That is not how you should address me,” Sigyn said, pointing a finger at the older woman with all the imperious arrogance she had ever had. “I am your Mikilfengleg Kona.”

A vein pulsed in Svana Ein’s neck, but she curtsied deeply and said in a cool voice, “Yes, Mikilfengleg Kona.”

Stunned relief nearly made Sigyn dizzy as she fought to remain stern.

“Good.” She turned back to the garments and said, “I want those dresses folded. I’m taking them down to my charities. I’ll decide which one will make best use of them when I get there.”

The Ey rushed to obey, while Svana Þrír ran to the wardrobe to see what was left. Sigyn had left her ceremonial dresses alone, only focusing on the ones that she wore day to day. They were all alike and she was sick of them. If she wanted to make an impression, she needed to change her appearance. She was tired of elaborate dresses and hairstyles. If she was failing as a princess, she needed to rethink how she wanted to be seen, how she wanted to appeal to people. In the last few centuries she had been aloof and distant, and she needed to get close to the people. To do that she had no need of grand and golden dresses, which she had never liked at any rate.

As she finished going through her clothing, she felt a tug of a letter from Loki demanding her attention. With a flick of her wrist against her thigh, she plucked the letter into the air and tucked the thick bundle of pages into her hand, finding it harder to hide than she anticipated due to the size. What had Loki written to her? More lectures about standing up for their marriage? Criticisms about her words about his children?

Whatever it was, it would have to wait. Sigyn stashed the letter in a pocket in the dress and led her attendants to the royal tailors. She made a show of knowing what she wanted, plucking at fabric in a false quest of finding what she had in mind, when she was really examining each until she found one she liked.

The subdued behaviour of the Svana and Ey and the stunned behaviour of the tailors and seamstresses made her feel very self-conscious. She knew she was acting out of character, and with a kind of imperious arrogance she normally avoided, but her usual behaviour was so disinterested and accepting that she had no idea how else to get across that she was not playing games without sounding childish. She tried to act the way her mother did, with complete certainty that she knew what she wanted, and how it ought to be done.

“All of my garments for the past three centuries have been long, flowing dresses. I’m tired of that.”

“Well, we could shorten the hem of your older dresses,” started the Head Tailor.

“No, I want something new. I want simplicity, practicality, and I don’t want a long hem! In fact I would rather wear trousers.”

“Like your mother?”

A flush of anger burned Sigyn’s cheeks, but she said coolly, “No. My mother dresses like a native of her people. Rugged and strong. As admirable as that is, I am not like her. I want something a little less… rugged. I want a fusion of styles, rather than constantly having to wear the gowns of my father’s people. It sends a terrible message to my mother’s people that I only wear their clothes when I visit them.”

The baffled looks on the tailor’s face matched her own sense of frustration. All Sigyn knew was she did not want to wear the same things anymore. She wanted to stand out, be noticeably different as she went ahead with her slowly developing plan.

“Just design for me what you feel is the opposite of my current fashion!” she said in exasperation. “Are you not the ones who are meant to be the greatest at this craft? Just design a whole series of ideas for me and I will pick what I like. I want them all by this afternoon.”

They nodded wordlessly and Sigyn left, feeling her face begin to burn. Loki was lucky that he was recognised by his colours, even if he didn’t like gold much, everyone knew how to spot him. Sigyn’s colours were Vanaheim’s colours. Her colours made people think of the realm. She wanted them to see a colour, or any sort of symbol, and think of her. Anyone who saw a boat thought of her father, and anyone who saw a mountain was reminded of her mother.

What symbol reminded them of her?

Loki’s letter was bumping against her leg, a weight on the very light material, and she slipped her hand into her pocket, wrapping her fingers around the paper. Would Loki know how she should dress? No, not necessarily. He liked her in pretty dresses, he loved pulling long skirts over her thighs, just like he preferred her hair to be long, and her belly to be soft. He was always surrounded by hard bodied men (and Sif) that he revelled in curves and feminine softness. It was just another way for their time together to be that much more unique between them. Just as Sigyn liked him lean and strong, with shorter hair, and wearing tight trousers so she could admire his legs.

No, Loki liked the softer image of her, which she was sure would curry her no favours anymore. It was too much of a reminder of her complacency.

With this in mind, Sigyn went down to the Exercise Arena. To her surprise, her mother was there, going through her usual morning routine.

“You’re very late today,” said Sigyn by way of greeting. She went to the small cupboard where she kept her exercise clothing and pulled her dress over her head, throwing Ey Annarr a sharp look when she went to help.

“I was delayed this morning,” replied Skadi, “The State Representatives had to be seen off at sunrise.”

“Oh… they’re gone already?”

“Of course. They never stay more than the few days it takes to update us on their respective state’s condition.”

Sigyn sighed and nodded, “Yes, of course.”

There was absolute silence as Skadi slid down into a split and Sigyn pulled on her stretchy exercise clothing, wrapping the long ends of her top around her waist several times before tying it off. Back in her old clothes, she could see just how soft her stomach had gotten and frowned.

“Don’t overdo it.”

 Sigyn’s head snapped up at her mother’s voice. “What?”

Skadi was reaching for her left toes with her right arm, “Don’t overdo it today. It’s been a long time since you were here, you cannot force your body to be as it was when you trained regularly.”

“Oh… right.” Sigyn nodded slightly, even though Skadi was facing away from her. She tied her hair back and started to jog around the arena. Even though she knew her mother was right, she still ran around thirty times as she used to do. By the time she was done, she felt faintly sick and had to lean on her knees for a few moments to collect herself. Catching her breath she looked up in time to see her mother have a few words with Svana Ein, then leave without looking back. The look Svana Ein threw at her made her feel like curling up in a ball and dying of shame and embarrassment for a thousand wordless reasons.

This was not going to be as easy as she had hoped.

After exercise, Sigyn went to the Archives and read the minutes from State Meetings from the past three decades. Her body was aching from her exercise, and her brain started to ache from cramming as much as she could, but she pushed it all down in favour of moving forward. After her reading she ate a big lunch and made an effort to give a proper response to those who waved to her. Afterwards she went back to the tailors and selected the designs she liked.

“Now, how long will it take you to make these?”

“We can have them all done within a week.”

“Good. That’ll give me enough time to get organised.”

“Organised Mikilfengleg Kona?”

Sigyn smirked, “I’m planning on taking a tour of Vanaheim. Nothing too official, just a trip around the different states.”

“Mikilfengleg Kona, you can’t just go off on a tour!” Svana Ein burst out, “You have to give us more time to get organised.”

Sigyn turned to her with a cold expression, “Did I not tell you this morning that I will not tolerate you attempting to dominate my choices?”

Svana Ein drew herself up, but Svana Tveir jumped in first, “What she means is that people will need more time to prepare for your arrival.”

“I don’t want a huge parade everywhere I go! I want to spend time with people.”

Svana Tveir, who rarely spoke at all, nodded in understanding, “Yes, of course, and we can make that clear, but these welcoming parties are not just to honour you, they make the people feel better about themselves. It instils pride in themselves and in their communities. To just turn up unannounced would upset them, make them feel inadequate, so you need to give them time to prepare something.”

Sigyn sighed, conceding the point. That made sense, even if it wasn’t what she wanted.

“Fine, but I want it understood that I am not looking to be glorified. I want to go and meet people, get to know them.”

Svana Tveir nodded in understanding, “Of course, we will organise that.”

“I want to get at least the states surrounding the Capital before the Ostara Festival.”

“Mikilfengleg Kona,” Svana Þrír stepped forward, hand held out in supplication. “Why not wait until after the festival? I can understand that you want to work quickly to… achieve your goals, but the Ostara Festival requires work does it not? Were you not intending to organise a troubadour group to bring with you?”

Sigyn bit her lip, “But it’s not for over a month.”

“And it will take two weeks at least for the towns to get organised to receive you.”

“I…” Sigyn’s fingers curled around the table edge, her knuckles turning white. There was logic to the words, but she could feel her control slipping away like it was an illusion.

Ey Fyrstr pushed past Svana Þrír, “Mikilfengleg Kona, whatever you want to do, we’ll do without complaint.”

“Ey!” hissed Svana Þrír. Sigyn narrowed her eyes and gestured for Svana Þrír to be quiet. She stared at Ey Fyrstr hard. As she did the other Ey moved forward to join their comrade. Sigyn lifted her chin and said to the tailors,

“You have your orders. I want those clothes in a week.”

“Yes Mikilfengleg Kona.”

Sigyn gestured to the Ey, “Follow me. Svana, I want you all to remain here.”

They left the three older women behind as Sigyn went to her study. It was a huge single room, crammed full of books, stored herbs, everything she could ever need to practise seiðr. There was one high backed chair which Sigyn sat in.

“Sit before me.” she said to the six women. They each took a large cushion from the corner and sat on it in a semi-circle before her. As they did, Sigyn looked them over, one by one.

The six women before her had been handpicked from across the realm to be her attendants and companions. If the Svana were to help run her life, the Ey were to make it bearable. They shared in her hobbies, her training, everything she learned they learned. It was the most privileged position in the realm in some ways because they got the best education with her.

‘Ey’ was a word of several meanings, but the context being used in the title was ‘Happiness Woman’. As such, Ey Fyrstr was ‘First Happiness Woman’, then there was Annarr (Second), Þridi (Third), Fjórdi (Fourth), Fimmti (Fifth), and Sétti (Sixth). All of them were copper haired and dark eyed, so they would never be mistaken for her. They dressed the same and wore their hair the same, so it was next to impossible for the average person to tell them apart –except for Fandral the Dashing, who was very good at that kind of thing.

As children they had been her closest friends, but like everything in her life, Sigyn had drifted from them as she got older. She was beginning to see a pattern in her behaviour, and she was really starting to hate herself for it.

Now the six of them were all staring up at her with obedient expressions. Sigyn closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the chair.

“My Ey… can I trust you?” she asked.

“Of course,” they chorused. Sigyn snorted in disbelief,

“Forgive me if I find it hard to believe.”

“Mikilfengleg Kona, what have we done to lose your trust?”

“It is not any particular incident. It is simply the fact that you are the same as the Svana, you were picked by my parents and you answer to them. How can I trust you when you owe your position to them?” Sigyn did not intend to sound so blunt or mocking, but it came out that way.

There was silence for a moment, and she opened her eyes to see the women looking at each other with uncertain eyes. Then Ey Fjórdi swallowed and lifted her chin,

“Mikilfengleg Kona… we know you’ve been having an affair with King Loki.”

Sigyn’s stomach dropped, but Ey Annarr jumped in, “We have never told a soul! No one but us knows.”

Sigyn clenched her fists in her lap, “I find that hard to believe. Surely if you know, the Svana know.”

“No. We only know because we are the ones who actually bathe you. We’ve noticed the… evidence,” said Ey Þridi. “The Svana have no idea.”

“Well, they know you harbour feelings for the King, but that’s because you’re always excited to see him,” said Ey Sétti. “They think the same as the king and queen, that nothing beyond emotions and words has gone on.”

“At least as far as we know,” said Ey Fyrstr with a mild shrug.

Sigyn’s hands spasmed and she glanced down to see her fingers trembling against her lap. She sucked in a deep breath, but felt lightheaded as she clenched her eyes shut. How many others knew something? How many more games like this would she have to play?

“Mikilfengleg Kona.” Ey Annarr rested her hand on Sigyn’s knee, “Please don’t be upset. We know how happy he makes you. We would never say anything of this to anyone.”

“How can I trust that?” Sigyn’s eyes were burning.

“Because we have said nothing for centuries,” said Ey Fimmti, shifting closer and taking hold of her hands. “Please Mikilfengleg Kona… you can trust us. We want what is best for you, you’re our princess.” She squeezed Sigyn’s fingers, “And we’re your friends.”

Sigyn shook her head, “I want to trust that, because it would be so nice to feel like I’m not fighting with everyone, but I don’t know if I can.”

Ey Fimmti looked at the others and then back up at her, “I have written to my family every year since I came of age.”

Sigyn’s head snapped up. Because they were expected to shed their identities, the Svana and Ey were not allowed to make contact with their families –and the Ey were so young when they were brought to the palace they weren’t expected to remember their families.

“I’ve already picked my name out for the day I am released from service to you,” said Ey Annarr. Another forbidden act.

“I’ve… stolen books from this room,” said Ey Sétti in a whisper.

“When we were girls, I used to steal some of your toys and hide them so I could play with them myself,” said Ey Fjórdi.

Ey Þridi sighed, “I’ve made use of the herbs you have here for… amusement.”

“I had an affair with a palace official,” said Ey Fyrstr in a soft voice. Sigyn looked at her, at the way her face turned down, and her hands squeezed each other in her lap.

“Did you love him?”

Ey Fyrstr nodded, “But he married another. I think he just enjoyed the thrill of bedding me.”

All of their actions broke laws of conduct for the Ey. Sigyn had every right to dismiss them now for these actions. She smiled, and curled her fingers around Ey Fimmti’s hands.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

They smiled up at her shyly, Ey Fimmti’s eyes turning up to hers with determination.

“Now, will you let us help you?”

Sigyn inhaled and nodded.

**~*~**

That night, as Sigyn crawled into bed, physically sore and mentally drained, she remembered Loki’s letter. It was still in her dress pocket in her wardrobe.

Sigyn groaned. She was in no mood for one of Loki’s longer letters. Silvertongue could go on for pages and pages when the mood struck him, and she doubted she would get through half a page before she gave up. Loki’s letters deserved more attention than that when he put such effort in.

She would read it tomorrow. It could wait until then.

The next morning she and Ey trained together as they used to and Sigyn found herself laughing more than she had in a long time. She decided to go out into the city and shop for more herbs, which became a full day’s excursion when people all but mobbed her in excitement. She ended up having dinner in the main square, surrounded by children and the Heads of the City Guilds. Although fun, she drank too much and Ey Fimmti and Ey Annarr had to help her into bed.

Between one thing and another, it was a week before she read Loki’s letter. 


	38. Mishaps of Magic and Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stressed from being unable to control his magic and rule the kingdom at the same time, Loki takes a day off by bringing Hlin on a ride on Sleipnir.

One of the consequences of Loki’s metamorphosis was that he could no longer sleep like a normal man.

Well, he could, but it didn’t end well. The first night, he nodded off for about two hours and woke up in the kitchen when a servant trip over him. Embarrassed, he had gone back to bed, and although confused, put it rightly down to his new seiðr and gone back to sleep. He woke to find his room filled with toucans screeching all around him. His attempt to send them back had resulted in several exploding all over him and his bedchambers and he’d had to have the rest removed by servants until Kvasir could send them away.

The next time Loki tried to sleep, he was awoken by a panicking Sverrir who said the Throne Room had been turned into a jungle with a one eyed monkey seated on the still golden throne. Loki had gone to see it for his own amusement but when he tried to fix it, the whole jungle had frozen solid into a glittering ice cave and Loki had nearly had a heart attack out of fear of turning blue. Thankfully that had not happened, but it took Kvasir seven hours to undo the seiðr and twelve servants got bitten by something unpleasant. Eir was not happy with him, any and all petitions had to be put off for the day and Loki was mortified about his lack of control.

“What am I going to do?” he demanded of Sverrir after a full week of magical mishaps. “If I can’t control my magic, I’ll be a laughing stock to the other monarchs.”

“Majesty, you’ve been magically altered and your magic has changed with it, of course it will take time to regain balance with it,” soothed Sverrir.

“But I can’t even sleep now! I can last longer than most without sleep, but even I need it.” Loki started to pace. He felt almost impotent, his seiðr was there and he couldn’t use it without making a mess.

“Well, maybe father might have some suggestions, he said he was going to research this whole thing for you –which is something I’ve been meaning to ask you.” Sverrir shifted where he stood, flushing slightly, “Why have you allowed my father to research it for you? Normally this is the exact sort of thing where you would make a fort in the library for.”

“I have never made a fort in the library,” said Loki with a snort.

“You’ve come close several times with the amount of piles you’ve made.”

“Well, in any case, living in the library is not something a king should do.”

Sverrir raised a dubious eyebrow. “Majesty… are you sure that the metamorphosis hasn’t changed more than your body?”

Loki snorted, “You think my mind is affected?”

“It’s just… I never thought I would see a day when you were willing to hand over something like research into a magical issue so readily, nor a day when you would give up something that is so integral to your behaviour to mind your image as a king.”

“Well, maybe I’ve finally stopped fighting the fact that I’m stuck as king for who knows how long?”

“But you don’t give in.”

Loki sighed, “What do you want me to say Sverrir?”

“Nothing. I just… I just want to help, and this behaviour is against what I would expect of you, so I’m worried.”

Loki sighed and sat down at his desk, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re right, normally I would throw myself into research, but… I’ve too much going on in my mind to focus on it. Kvasir is in a much better frame of mind to do that than I right now. But I’m not ill, and I’m not… altered so much that I am not myself. I’m just… myself dealing with this situation.”

Sverrir sighed, “I guess I understand. Well, no, I don’t understand what you’re experiencing. But I can imagine I wouldn’t be feeling like myself.”

Loki wondered what Sverrir would say if he knew about Hel.

“Might I make a suggestion?” Sverrir asked quietly. Loki nodded, rubbing at his brow. “You owe Hlin a ride on Sleipnir, and you need a break. So why not do it today, let your advisors look after everything. It might help you feel less… disorientated.”

Loki raised his eyebrows and inclined his head. “That does sound like a good idea.”

“I’ll organise the horses, if you want to get Hlin.”

Loki nodded. “Thank you Sverrir.”

“Of course my friend.”

Loki’s lips twitched in a mild smile as Sverrir left. Normally he wanted to hit someone for calling him friend, not really believing it, but he believed it with Sverrir. He went to his bedchamber to get changed. As he did, he wished he could dare tug on magical subspace, to see if Sigyn had replied. As far as he knew she hadn’t replied to his letter, and it had been a week. That was starting to really worry him. He had expected to have to catch her flying through the mirror to kill him for being so careless within a few hours of sending it, but there had been nothing.

Why? Was she still angry with him over their fight? Ridiculous. Sigyn hated leaving fights with him to fester, in case something happened to him and she wasn’t able to make peace. 

Was she horrified and disgusted by his recent transformation? Well, being half Jötun didn’t bother her, so it seemed ridiculous that this would upset her.

Maybe she just didn’t care?

Loki shook his head. No, that couldn’t be it. She would be worried about him. Unless she hadn’t read the letter. But why wouldn’t she have read the letter?

Loki’s mind was back to its usual chaos by the time he got to Frigga’s chambers.

“Good afternoon mother,” he greeted as he walked in.

“Good afternoon majesty,” Frigga smiled at him warmly as she looked up from her loom.

“I’ve come to honour Hlin’s victory from the archery tournament. That is, if you can spare her for the rest of the day.”

Three things happened at once.

Hlin dropped her basket of threads and ducked behind her own hair, Lofn let out a squeal of excitement and squeezed Hlin tight enough to cut off her air, while Fulla looked at Gna and nodded with firm approval, as if to say, ‘well it’s about time too!’

“Of course majesty, I can spare her,” said Frigga in amusement as Gna and Lofn grabbed Hlin and dragged her into another room, probably to change, while Fulla picked up the dropped threads.

“She’s been looking forward to this ever since you promised her, your majesty,” said Fulla, sounding very pleased.

“It’s all she ever talks about!” Gefion burst out, “Animals this, Sleipnir that, I was getting so bored of it. Now at least she’ll have something interesting to talk about.”

“Well, I’m sorry to have kept her waiting for it.”

“Oh Hlin doesn’t mind, your majesty,” said Fulla promptly. “She’s got the patience of a snail. Unlike some people I could mention.” Here she shot Gefion a look. Gefion ignored her in favour of rushing up to Loki,

“So, your majesty, it must be so amazing to be so super powered now!” she stated rather than asked. Loki raised an eyebrow at her,

“Did you see the throne room a few days ago?”

“So you turned the throne room into a jungle, I thought that was hilarious! Especially the monkey!” Gefion gave a belly laugh. Fulla tutted and Frigga hid a smile.

“Gefion, that’s no way to speak to the king! Or of something that mocked the last king,” said Fulla.

“Oh you're so boring Fulla.” Gefion sighed. “I just hope Hlin makes Sleipnir go as fast as he can! It would be amazing to ride that horse!”

“Now you know Hlin hasn’t the head for speed,” said Fulla, “She’d much rather enjoy a quiet ride along the waters. Which I’d say you’d find quite pleasant too your majesty, after these past few days of manic goings on.”

“That’s what Sverrir concluded. Did you by any chance collude with him on this?” Loki smirked as Fulla giggled.

“Loki, I’m sure you will, but I must ask you to be very careful with Hlin,” said Frigga, rising to her feet. “She’s a very nervous girl and needs to be minded well.”

“She’s practically afraid of her own shadow!” Gefion said with a shake of her head.

“Of course I’ll mind her mother, don’t worry,” said Loki with a wry smile. “She’ll be fine with me.”

“I know she will.” Frigga smiled, squeezing his arm as the door opened and Hlin came out, now in riding clothes. It was obvious Gna had managed to get at her long hair, because it was pulled into an elegant plait with pink ribbons strung through it.

“I’m ready your majesty, I’m so sorry to have kept you waiting.”

“You didn’t.” Loki offered her his elbow and she slipped her hand in, blushing magenta. “I’ll see you at dinner mother.”

Frigga nodded as he led Hlin out. They were quiet as they walked to the stables, but Loki could tell she was comfortable with it. Hlin needed time to relax, there was no point in trying to hurry her. At the stables Loki greeted both horses with apples before helping Hlin onto Sleipnir’s back. As she shifted her hands on his reigns, Sleipnir gave an impatient hop and Hlin let out a squeak of alarm. Loki grabbed Sleipnir’s reigns and forced him to stand still.

“Behave yourself Sleipnir!” he warned, “You carry a very delicate lady and you need to be on your best behaviour. I promise, if you are steadier and calmer than you have ever been today then I will take you on a long, fast ride across the land at the next chance I get.”

Sleipnir tossed his head slightly, disgruntled.

“Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea,” mumbled Hlin, “I’m so sorry to put you out your majesty.”

Loki shook his head, resting his hand on her calf to relax her, “Hlin, it’s fine. Sleipnir will behave himself, and he is the most reliable of horses. He’s just excited. You asked for this to be your reward, and you’ll get it. Unless you’ve changed your mind?” Hlin dropped her eyes, blushing harder than ever, but a faint smile was on her lips.

“No, I really do want to go riding with you, majesty.”

“Good. Fulla suggested along the waters, does that sound like a good idea?”

Hlin nodded, smiling wider. Loki gave her leg a quick tap of reassurance, then mounted Glaeggi. With a small kick the two horses set off at a steady walk. They took a small path that would take them down to the cliffs that bordered the waters that surrounded Asgard. It afforded the best view of the starry sky beyond the atmosphere of Asgard. Knowing Hlin would never start a conversation on her own, Loki pointed out at the stars and started telling her the stories that the stars were given.

“You know so many stories majesty,” Hlin sighed.

“Well, Thor loves stories,” said Loki simply, “We used to go to the Observatory, or the top of the palace at night and I would tell him the stories. Needlessly to say I needed many to keep him happy.”

Hlin nodded in understanding, her expression contemplative as she looked up at his face. “You miss him, don’t you majesty?”

Loki started and snapped his head around to look at her. Hlin covered her mouth with her hand, “I’m sorry! I just meant-”

“No, no, it’s fine Hlin.” Loki smiled at her faintly, “It’s just… I don’t think anyone has actually asked me that yet.”

Hlin relaxed and watched his face as Loki contemplated his answer.

“I have missed him.” he said finally, “But I’ve not thought on it much. I’ve only thought about it when I’ve worried about him getting into trouble. But even that… I haven’t thought about him in a while at all.”

“Maybe because if you thought about him, you’d be too sad,” suggested Hlin.

Loki wasn’t so sure. A part of him missed Thor that was certain, but a larger part was throwing up every way he could have made a mess of things if he was here. And he doubted Thor would be any help in dealing with his recent experiences considering he would probably call it all ‘tricks’. So, it was more that Loki was missing the familiarity of Thor’s presence, not Thor himself. That was rather disconcerting in and of itself. Did he really not miss Thor at all? Surely some part of him did.

Loki was quiet for a while as they made their way to a small wood, stopping at the edge of a headland which almost touched the border of the realm itself. They dismounted and Loki reached into the saddle bag Sverrir had organised. To his surprise there was wine from Alfheim in the bag, along with meat and bread.

“I should do that majesty.” Hlin reached out, trying to take the food from him. Loki allowed it, preoccupied with his thoughts. He sat under a tree and stared out at the horizon as Hlin sorted their food out.

“You have sisters, don’t you Hlin?” he asked, sipping at the wine.

“Yes majesty, three of them.”

“Do you see them much since you came into my mother’s service?”

“No, but I write to them.”

“Hmmm.” Loki accepted the bread she offered him, relaxing back and sipping more wine with it. Hlin settled next to him, nibbling on some dried venison. After a while she looked up at him with big doe eyes, touching his hand.

“I’m sorry majesty, I should never have brought up your brother.”

Loki shook his head and turned his hand to absentmindedly squeeze her fingers. “It’s fine. I’m just wondering where things changed and why they did.”

“Siblings always have times when they aren’t as close as they once were. But maybe that’s so they can find each other again and remember that they love each other. I know that I miss my siblings the most when I haven’t seen them in a long time, but sometimes if I get to see them a lot, I start to feel surrounded.”

Loki snorted “I certainly was these past few centuries. Thor wouldn’t let me leave his side once I proved my usefulness.”

“Maybe he just was happy that you two could do something together that he could enjoy.”

Loki swallowed another mouthful of wine. “Nothing’s that simple, not when you live as long as we do.”

“Maybe for Prince Thor it is,” said Hlin thoughtfully.

“If he was so happy to have me around, why did he always ignore my efforts?” Loki demanded, then grimaced. He was a king, he should not be talking like this with a servant.

“I don’t think he did it deliberately, and I know that he always praised you for doing something he would do himself. Maybe he felt that your magic wasn’t worth commenting on since it isn’t as well respected in court. But he always talked about your skills with weapons as proudly as your father does.”

Loki arched an eyebrow at Hlin, “My father?”

Hlin nodded with a smile, “I have heard him say many things about how proud he is of both his sons. I think he forgets I’m sitting there in the corner sorting threads when he’s visiting My Lady the King’s Mother. I’ve heard him talk about you and your magic, he says one day you’ll be greater than anyone else in the nine realms, even greater than him.”

“He did?”

Hlin nodded, “Oh yes.”

Loki tilted his head thoughtfully. “Hm, interesting.”

He knew Hlin wasn’t lying, and for once such thoughts did not send him into a giddy spiral of desperate neediness. But he was disconcerted by his lack of any satisfaction from this. Sighing he closed his eyes and leaned his head back,

“Hlin, tell me a story.”

“Me?”

“Yes… please.” Loki squeezed her fingers again. Hlin’s voice may have been very soft, but it was sweet and would hopefully take his mind off his ponderous thoughts.

“Of course, um… oh! This is a story my father told me as a girl…”

Loki drank most of the wine since Hlin was doing all the talking, and by the time she finished, it was sunset and Loki was feeling pleasantly warm and sleepy.

“Hmmm… that was a lovely story Hlin.” he sighed, eyes sliding shut.

“Thank you majesty. I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

Loki let his head fall back against the tree. A tentative hand reached up and touched his hair. It was comforting and Loki hummed in contentment. He loved it when Sigyn did this for him, stroking him like a cat, soothing him until he was relaxed in her arms. He missed Sigyn, why hadn’t she replied to his letter yet? Maybe she just didn’t know how to deal with this news. Maybe she was running away from it, the way she ran away from everything.

A nasty, shadowy part of Loki’s mind, where he usually came up with his most vicious pranks, showed him an image of Sigyn reading his letter and then promptly drinking herself into a stupor so she wouldn’t have to deal with it. Sadly, there was a sliver of possibility in it.

A second hand touched his chest and he blinked his eyes open to find Hlin staring down at him with wide, soft eyes. Before he had a chance to realise what that look meant, she leaned down and kissed him. Sleepy as he was, Loki kissed her back before he knew what he was doing. When he did realise it, he did not stop. His mother’s words of minding Hlin flashed through his mind. He had no desire to embarrass or hurt her, nor did he want to make her first kiss –for it was very obvious that it was –unpleasant or regretful. So he quickly decided that he would not just pull away.

He cupped Hlin’s cheek and gently moved his lips against hers, refusing to deepen the kiss. He pulled away after another few seconds and looked straight into Hlin’s eyes. Hers were huge and delighted, the kind of look he was used to seeing on Thor and Fandral’s admirers, the ones who ended up in floods of tears afterwards.

… maybe he should have just pushed her away.

“Hlin…” he said, picking his words carefully, “You are very sweet, and I enjoy talking with you. But I don’t share your feelings-”

“I know that,” Hlin said breathlessly, “But I don’t mind. I just… want to know what it’s like to be with you. I’ve desired you for so long, ever since I first met you and I…” Her excitement gave way to shyness like a tidal wave on a shore, and she ducked her head. “I understand that you don’t desire me the same way… and I certainly don’t expect you to love me or marry me… but I don’t think I’m that unattractive-”

“Hlin, please stop.” Loki wanted to sink into the ground. “That is not the way to talk about yourself. It has nothing to do with your desirability, you’re very desirable, but it doesn’t work that way. I can’t just… want to bed you because you’re so pretty.”

“I just-”

“Hlin, listen to me. You do not want your first experience with a lover to be one where he doesn’t love you completely. Trust me, it’s much better when you love someone and they love you.” He felt his cheeks heating up and he was cringing at his own sentimentality. Thor would have no trouble saying these things without shame or self-conscious awkwardness.

“But it’s you I want.” Hlin’s eyes were getting wet with tears now, although to her credit she was trying to hide it as if she knew it would make him more uncomfortable. She was not turning them into a weapon to manipulate him. So Loki decided he would have to be brutally honest with her on his own part, out of respect.

“I understand that Hlin. But… it’s not just about you. It’s about me. And I… I cannot bed anyone I do not love. I cannot bed anyone who is not the woman I marry. I know I’m meant to be a conqueror of young maidens, after all I am a prince, a king and a man. And not doing so has made many accuse me of being… less than a man. But… I vowed a long time ago that I would never lie with anyone but my wife, not after I learned how it feels to feel used.”

“You…?” If Hlin’s eyes were any bigger they would fall out of her head. Loki swallowed and nodded,

“It was a long time ago. But I’ve learned from it, and I’ve learned that I don’t want to jump from bed to bed, or even have anything more or less than a single woman whom I share a union with in body, mind and soul.”

“So… you’re waiting for your true love?” Hlin asked. Loki’s cheeks burned with embarrassment, but he nodded,

“In blunt terms, yes.”

“So when you marry, it’ll be her and her alone? You’ll never look at another woman again?”

‘ _Only with her permission._ ’ Loki thought, but he nodded, keeping a straight face. “I will only have one woman in my life.”

“Who is she? Or have you not found her yet?”

Loki considered his options, and decided that it was best to keep that to himself for now. He settled instead for a glance away to suggest he was hiding something. Hlin’s soft gasp and her hands jumping to her mouth indicated her reading him exactly as he wished.

“So… have we… come to an understanding?” Loki asked, hardly daring to touch her. She looked like she wanted to eat him now.

Hlin nodded, “Oh yes majesty! Oh yes! I understand completely. I am so sorry that I caused you to break some of your promise, but I swear it will never happen again!”

Loki smiled and inclined his head. “It’s fine Hlin, I should have been more careful about how I behaved if I gave you the wrong idea. Truthfully I enjoy the company of women quite a bit, as friends, and I would like to count you among that group. And I do enjoy a bit of flirting, you know I like word games and the such, but I will never take it so far as to imply that it will go further.”

“I understand majesty.”

“Good, now maybe we should get back before mother starts to worry.” 

Hlin nodded, and they quickly mounted the horses again and went back to the palace.


	39. The Murderer of Gróa Geirmundardóttir

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The truth of what happened the day Odin took Loki from the temple comes to the light.

“Loki, did something happen between you and Hlin?”

Loki blinked up at his mother who was frowning at him, his fork frozen halfway to mouth.

“Define ‘something’ mother.”

“You know what I mean Loki! Ever since that ride out on Sleipnir she’s had her head in the clouds –and she has Gna and Lofn acting the same.”

“Well then how do you know it’s anything to do with me?”

“Do you think I’m blind to the behaviour of the other young maidens around the palace since then too? They all look at you with dreamy eyes that I have never seen before and I want to know why.”

“Mother, calm down,” Loki felt a flash of annoyance. He was running on no sleep in the past three days since his ride out, and his mother’s tone was beyond accusatory to downright outrage. “What do you think I did? Seduce Hlin with sweet words so I could get under her skirt and now she’s running around the palace telling every woman she meets what a magnificent lover I am? Please. You know Hlin isn’t like that, nor for that matter am I.”

“Then what is going on?”

“Have you even heard anything that’s being said?”

“The girls all fall quiet as soon as I am within earshot, and a queen does not eavesdrop.”

“More the pity for the queen. But the fact is mother, Hlin did kiss me on that ride out, and I told her no.”

Frigga’s eyebrows jumped up. “ _Hlin_ kissed _you_? But… normally it’s a chore to get her to even agree to dance with someone.”

Loki shrugged, “I was as surprised as you. I tried to be kind, so please don’t accuse me of bad behaviour without cause.”

Frigga stared at him and sighed, “I’m sorry Loki. I just… this talk of marriage for you has been on my mind and I… I suppose I don’t want Hlin to be hurt. She’s such a gentle girl.”

Loki could tell his mother wasn’t telling him something, but he did not press her. “Which is why I didn’t just shove her away. I did not want to leave her with a bad memory, but nor did I go beyond a kiss.”

“But then… what has her so dreamy eyed?”

Loki grinned faintly, feeling rather proud of himself. “Mother, what do you think would be powerfully attractive to many of the unmarried women of the court, given the usual expectations of men and their dalliances?”

Frigga frowned thoughtfully, then a faint smile came onto her lips.

“I suppose a man who is absolutely guaranteed to be loyal to one woman alone, never having any other before or after.”

Loki nodded, “Exactly, and given… previous occurrences, I decided I would only want one woman in my bed. My wife.”

Frigga’s eyes lit up with understanding and she rose to her feet. She embraced Loki’s head as she went to his side, and kissed his hair.

“Oh my boy… I’m sorry I doubted you. And I’m sorry I never brought up the subject of marriage for you before. Your father and I were unsure what you would want after that witch, and it took so long for you to return to us fully that we didn’t know what to do.”

Loki squirmed to pull free, “Mother, please, it’s not that impressive.”

Frigga snorted as she returned to her seat. “Oh believe me Loki, to the women of this court… it is a mighty decision.”

Loki thought about how it was all but expected of men in the court to take on at least one mistress in their lifetimes, and he knew many had. The most notorious of course was Freyr. The beautiful man would make love to his own twin sister and then return home to beat his wife. Delling and Bragi had bedded many women as well. Sverrir would probably start soon as a matter of course. And the women of Asgard had to just accept it and not dare consider doing the same, lest they be caught, humiliated and outcast.

“If Hlin has been telling everyone what you told her, and don’t look at me as if you did not want her to, you’ve made yourself look like the most romantic man in the realm. No wonder they all look so enamoured.”

Loki snorted, “Just another game mother, nothing else,” He wiped his hands clean and got to his feet, “I have to go, I have a meeting with the generals,” He gave his mother a quick kiss on the cheek and left.

The generals were waiting for him in the state chambers. Tyr, Forseti, and three men who had retired, Áfastr, Harðænni and Bernharðr, all of whom bowed to him as he entered.

“My Lords, thank you for coming,” said Loki.

“Of course Majesty. Is something wrong?” Áfastr asked.

“I need some information regarding the last days of the war with Jötunheim. Specifically regarding the queen of Jötunheim.”

The men all shared a look of unease.

“The Queen, majesty?” Tyr asked carefully.

“Yes. I wish to know who killed her. I’ve come to learn some interesting things about her and I wish to know who killed her. Although I know Helblindi will never demand wergild for the death of Laufey, he may yet ask for it for her and I need to know who dealt the killing blow so I know who to protect.”

The men did not answer at once, the other four looking at Tyr, who sighed.

“Majesty, it was an unavoidable act… according to the man who did it. None of us ever actually saw the queen. We had only been warned she was very dangerous.”

“Is he in this room?” Loki asked. He felt no particular attachment or grief for Bergdís. She may have birthed him, but Loki was certain she had been more like Angrboda than Frigga, so he was mostly curious.

“No majesty.”

“Was it Odin?”

“No majesty.”

Loki raised an impatient eyebrow, “Are you going to give the name before my next millennium begins?”

Tyr sighed and folded his hands behind his back. “It was Kvasir, majesty.”

For a moment Loki just stood still, then he nodded. “I see. Then I suppose I will have to worry for him if the situation calls for it,” He drew in a sharp breath and gave a mild smile, “Thank you, you may go. And have Kvasir come to see me.”

The men left, Tyr throwing a frown over his shoulder as he went. Loki sat on his throne and brought his hand up to his face.

Kvasir had killed Bergdís. Why would his tutor kill a woman? Why would he kill his mother and then help raise him? A form of penance? Apathy regarding his actions?  

Kvasir was prompt in his arrival, though his steps were heavy as if he knew he was walking into danger. Loki did not invite him to sit.

“I’ve been informed that you are the one who killed Bergdís, Queen of Jötunheim,” he said without preamble, “I would like to know what made you take such an action.”

Kvasir sighed and before Loki’s eyes, he seemed to age.

“Majesty… you know I serve Asgard faithfully. But during the war… I am afraid I had to put my loyalty to all magical users ahead of Asgard. So I took the same attitude as you have done in your youth. To ask for forgiveness after, rather than ask permission before from your father.”

Kvasir dug his knuckles into his thigh as he paused. Then he lifted his chin, “Do you remember what I told you of Gróa Geirmundardóttir?”

“She burned Asgard’s library and is so hated on Vanaheim she isn’t spoken of.”

“Yes, well the reason she is so hated is because, in an attempt to gain power for herself, she caused the civil war that nearly tore Vanaheim apart. She fled into exile among the chaos and disappeared for decades. But the Vanirians feared she would return, and they asked me to help them search for her. I was already fearful of her because of the sheer power she had. Gróa had done some dark and evil things to gain terrible power and she had used it already to devastating effect. And then I finally found her. She had changed her name to Bergdís and she was the Queen of Jötunheim.

“I’ll be honest majesty, I only found her because she created the Casket and that caused such ripples through the universe. I informed the Vanirians but they were in such chaos they could not do anything about her. It was only when Laufey launched his attack on Midgard –at her behest I believe –that anyone had a chance to go after her. I asked the newly crowned Njordr and Skadi what they wanted me to do. They ordered me to do away with her if I had the chance. And I got that chance.”

Loki nodded, fingertips trailing over the arm of his chair. “And what of her son? The Crown Prince of Jötunheim. What did you do to him?”

Kvasir paled and he did not answer, eyes searching Loki’s face for a clue.

Loki inhaled deeply and said quietly, “A child of such a powerful sorceress, exposed to so much seiðr in the womb, and being a half-breed, was too much of an unknown element for you to just leave behind. You knew Odin would go to the temple to collect the Casket, and you knew the baby would be found by him. I think you hoped Odin would make the decision for you, either he would kill the child and the problem would be gone, or he would take it in and make sure it could never be a threat to Asgard, the realm you serve so faithfully, either by enslaving it, or making sure it hated its father’s species enough to never turn away from the Aesir.”

Loki lifted his eyes and Kvasir took a step back at the look in his eyes, “Did Odin know what you had done? Did he know what she really was?”

Kvasir swallowed, “I hid Gróa’s body from sight, so that the only thing Odin would see was the Casket and all he would hear was the child. In order to survive in Jötunheim Gróa took on the form of Jötun female for most of the time. And she shielded herself from magical gazes such as Odin’s and Heimdall’s. I don’t think Odin ever cared to know who she was, Asgard is only interested in the line of the father, not the mother.”

“But did he not know that she was the maker of the Casket?”

“I thought the best place for the Casket was here in Asgard, but if word got out that a Vanir had made it, then Vanaheim could claim it for themselves. I told no one and few knew of the maker outside of Jötunheim. Your father is a great man, but he had just suffered a terrible war, lost an eye, and I would not risk anything else befalling him or Asgard. So I kept my counsel until this day.”

“Did the Vanirians tell you to keep your counsel too?”

He nodded, “Queen Skadi did not want the Aesir to know about Gróa, for reasons she would not disclose to me directly.”

“And with what were you paid?”

Kvasir sighed, “With many magical devices, some of Gróa’s making, that are one of a kind.”

“I see… so you killed her for power.”

Kvasir shook his head and sank to one knee, “I killed her because she was power hungry, because she wanted to destroy and dominate everything. I did it to save billions of lives.”

Loki nodded, “I see. It was all very noble.”

“I did not consider it noble, I considered it necessary.”

“And the child? Was he a prize of your victory?”

“No. He was an honour to teach, proving that heritage has no bearing on one’s own actions.”

“By making it so he hated half of himself without knowing what he was.”

Kvasir dropped his eyes, “I have no answer for you, majesty.”

Loki inhaled slowly, swallowing. “Very well. You know Kvasir, I don’t think you’ve had much of a rest from your duties in a very long time. Perhaps you would think about taking some time off. I’m sure someone can fill in for you while you’re gone.”

Kvasir rose to his feet slowly, pale and with his eyes downcast. “Yes your majesty, I think you’re right.”

Loki nodded, looking away, “I want you to stay in the city in case you’re needed. Things are still tenuous and the Ostara festival is coming up. I’m sure soon after that you’ll feel fully rested and ready to come back.”

Although he wouldn’t look at Kvasir, he could feel him relaxing slightly.

“Yes your majesty.”

“You may go.” Loki waved him out. Kvasir paused at the door,

“Majesty, may I just say that although I regret that I had to do such a thing as kill a woman, any woman, I will never regret what King Odin happened upon in the temple. In fact I am thankful for it.”

Loki closed his eyes and rested his brow in his hand, “You may go Kvasir.”

Kvasir left.

**~*~**

Loki was subdued the rest of the day. He wasn’t particularly angry as he might have been a few weeks ago, when he probably would have banished Kvasir for this, rather he was just sad and disappointed. It struck him as odd that he was so calm, but he supposed he was tired of being angry about his earliest days. He hadn’t known Bergdís, he hadn’t known Laufey, he only regretted killing him now because he felt it had been a triumph of the manipulations of Odin and Kvasir. So what if only monsters could kill their parents, when a parent should be the person who raised a child, not the one who gave birth to it or sired it? As far as Loki was concerned, Sigyn was his youngest child’s parent, not Angrboda. In fact he would consider her the parent of all his children, because she cared for them without having met Hel or Jörmungandr.

It was all so clear to him when it came to his own children, why was it taking him so long to understand that for himself?

 _Because_ , a voice sighed in his mind, _you know that you were taken to be a pawn, and you still doubt Odin really loves you. But you know you love your children, and that is all there is. And you never lied to your children about their heritage after raising them to hate that heritage._

Loki avoided dinner that night and decided to go to bed.

“Majesty!” Sverrir called as Loki walked down the corridor. Loki grimaced but allowed him to catch up to him. Sverrir’s face was a picture of worry. “My father… he said he is taking a rest from the council, is everything well between you?”

Loki sighed and said quietly, “Things have come to light which have… harmed our relationship. But all I need is time to move past it and he can return.”

“Are you sure? Is there anything I can do?”

Loki shook his head, “No, there isn’t.”

Sverrir looked disappointed but nodded. “If there is, please tell me. I hate the idea of you and my father being at odds.”

“Thank you Sverrir.”

“Well, here,” Sverrir held out a sheaf of papers in a leather cover. “My father asked me to give this to you. It’s the research he’s done on your metamorphosis. He said he thinks the first page will help you get some rest.”

Loki looked down at the red leather and smiled faintly, his stomach clenching as he reached out and took the notes from him.

“Thank you Sverrir,” He said again, softer this time.

Sverrir nodded, then hesitantly reached out and touched his arm, “You’re welcome, my friend.”

Loki tucked the notes under his arm as he walked back to his chambers. He set them down on his desk and headed towards his bedchambers, pulling his vambraces off and throwing them aside, his shirt following. As he tossed the shirt aside, he smelled a scent he knew as well as his own, and whirled around.

“Sigyn!” 


	40. The Side-Effect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sigyn pays her husband a visit.

Sigyn’s cheeks were flushed and marked with tears, and her eyes were bright and pained. That was all Loki saw before she launched herself at him. He stumbled back into the post of his bed and grabbed it behind him to steady himself as Sigyn all but devoured his mouth. Her hands were everywhere, scratching at his bare chest, pulling at his shoulders, grabbing his backside. Loki could hardly get an arm around her she was moving so frantically. When she finally broke the kiss she went straight for his neck, biting and sucking as she started opening his trousers.

“Mmm –Sigyn. Sigyn slow down,” he groaned. Sigyn moaned in objection, sliding her hand down the front of his trousers. Loki yelped and bucked his hips as she curled her fingers around him and squeezed just on the right side of painful. Sigyn sucked the skin just under his ear, growling as she pushed her hand inside his trousers, warm fingers wrapping around hot flesh. 

“S –Si –Sigyn!” His head snapped back and his spine arched. “Sigyn, we need to –to talk.”

All at once everything stopped. Sigyn sagged against him, face buried in his neck, hand releasing him. Then she pulled away from him, backing up and turning away, hands covering her face. She was trembling. Loki winced as he carefully fixed his trousers. He reached out and touched her shoulder. Sigyn jerked away and turned her head to face the other way. Loki pulled his hand back as if burned.

“Sigyn?” he asked in a soft voice, trying not to sound confused or hurt. “Sigyn what’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry!” she gasped. “I’m sorry.”

Loki reached out to touch her again, but she rushed to the wall and pressed against it, huddled up. Loki swallowed as he covered his missing scar with his hands, a dreaded thought crossing his mind.

“Do you have to rush and force yourself to touch me now? Is that the only way now I’ve been-”

“Oh shut up Loki!”

Loki’s mouth snapped shut. Sigyn wiped her face and turned to him, leaning back against the wall. For a long moment she glared at him in stony silence. Loki waited. Finally, Sigyn spoke, her voice catching several times,

“Is it possible, just for a while, that you could maybe avoid having some dramatic disaster befall you for a few days?”

Loki sighed, dropping his hands, “Sigyn, it wasn’t my fault.”

“Why did you go near Fenrir?”

“You told me to,” protested Loki.

“I didn’t mean that same day! I meant you should make a plan, consider how to broach the subject with the council so that you could have Jörmungandr and Fenrir put in the line of succession. I never meant for you to run off on some half-baked idea to prove yourself.”

“It wasn’t like that!”

“It’s always like that. You are no better than Thor for getting ideas into your head about proving your worth, your strength, your intelligence, even your skills for mischief, and then running off without thinking beyond the act.”

“It. Was. An. Accident!” Loki stressed. Sigyn crossed the room and shoved him in the chest.

“Your own son ripped your arm off and you were nearly lost in subspace, reduced to nothing at all. That wasn’t an accident, that was you being careless with yourself. What would Asgard have done if you died? What would your family have done? What would **_I_** have done?”

Loki grabbed her wrists, pushing her back, “I’m alive! I’m more powerful than ever before-”

“At what cost?” Sigyn demanded, eyes flashing as she thrashed against his grip. “What did you lose to gain such a benefit?”

Loki’s eyes dropped to his stomach, causing hers to drop down in turn. Her mouth fell open in horror and he let her wrists slip from his hands as she reached out to his midsection.

“Your scar…” she gasped, “It’s gone.”

“Along with every other mark and callous and wound I’ve ever earned,” sighed Loki, missing the usual shiver and tingle that her touch on his scar had always brought. Sigyn’s brow was furrowed as she ran her fingertips over his skin again and again, as if hoping to bring the scar back through her touch. “I will need to regain my calluses, if I hope to have any standing with the warriors of Asgard.”

Sigyn shook her head and shoved him backwards again, “And what about your mind?”

“My mind is… fine. In fact it is calmer than I have ever known it.”

This did not reassure Sigyn, in fact it seemed to scare her. Loki reached out to touch her face, but she backed away and he paused. “Sigyn, I’m still myself.”

“How can I trust that? Even your letter… your letter seemed strange to me. It didn’t sound like you.”

Loki frowned, “No one else has commented on my behaviour.”

“Who knows you as well as I do?” Sigyn asked quietly, watching him warily.

Loki sighed, “Is my improved temper such a bad thing? I think it is a benefit to me. Today I was given news that a few weeks ago would have sent me into an emotional spiral and someone probably would have been hurt. Instead I handled it rationally and with no small amount of objectivism. How is that bad?”

“It is only bad because if you did not earn such rationality, then it is not you.”

“What matter is that, so long as I have it?”

“Because it is an illusion.”

Loki shook his head, pushing his hair back from his face, “Sometimes an illusion is better than reality.”

Sigyn tilted her head, “That does sound like the Loki I know.”

“Because I am still him!” Loki advanced again, but Sigyn tensed and he stepped back. “Sigyn, make up your mind. Only a moment ago you were attempting to crawl inside me and now you shy from my touch. Which is it?”

Sigyn’s expression crumpled and she stepped forward, “I… I just wanted to… I don’t know. I found out I could have lost you and I… I needed to do something about it. But I wasn’t thinking… I just reacted.” She groaned and ran her fingers through her hair. “Oh, I hope the Ey can cover for me until I get back.”

“Wait –what?” Loki asked with a frown.

Sigyn sighed, “Apparently I’m not as good a liar as I thought. My parents and the Svana know I’m in love with you, and the Ey know we’ve been bedding each other since the onset. But the Ey have sworn to secrecy, and they are going to help me.”

“Help you keep us a secret?” Loki asked dubiously.

“No. Help me prove myself as a monarch.”

“… I think you jumped a topic somewhere.”

Sigyn huffed, “You’re not the only one who’s been busy. That’s why I only read your letter now. I’ve been trying… trying to prove to my parents, and my realm, and the other realms, and, well, you that I can be a good ruler. I’ve been trying to change the way people see me, with new clothes, a better attitude, actually taking an interest in politics.”

Loki glanced at her nightdress, which looked the same as ever. “But I thought you weren’t allowed to.”

Sigyn gave a brittle smile, “Mother says the door was always open. I just chose to stand outside it, in favour of hiding away with you. It’s rather hard to take the same accusations from two people from different sides in the space of a few hours. It means that I really have been failing in, well, everything.”

“I said in the letter I was sorry for what I said.”

“Doesn’t mean you were wrong,” muttered Sigyn. She crossed the room and sat down on the edge of the bed, folding her hands and looking down at the ground. “Mother said much the same as you, that is why they are marrying me off to Berach, for the good of Vanaheim. He is already a capable ruler.”

“With no regard to your own desires?”

“They are unimportant in the light of a whole realm’s needs,” sighed Sigyn, “And they are right to say so. I pleaded with them to give me a chance to prove myself a ruler, so I could chose my husband. They have given me nine months.”

“Not much time,” said Loki with an arched eyebrow.

“Now you see why I am so frantic to get organised and neglecting you as a result.”

Loki nodded. Silence fell on them as Loki sat down on the bed near her.

“What news did you get today?” Sigyn asked at last. Loki looked around at her. “You said you got news that would have sent you into a rage only recently. What was it?”

Loki sighed and looked at the ceiling. “I learned who killed my mother.”

Sigyn frowned, “Your mother?”

“How much of my letter did you read?”

“You’re lucky I got past ‘Fenrir bit my arm off’. I didn’t finish it.”

“Well when we fought… my mood that day was because of what I had learned about my mother. She was not a Jötun, she was a Vanir.”

Sigyn’s eyes widened. “A Vanir?”

“A woman called Bergdís. She was a powerful sorceress, perhaps more powerful than any other. She forged the Casket of Ancient Winters, using me while I was inside her womb, to combine the brittle Jötnar seiðr with something to stabilise it.”

“She exposed you to high levels of seiðr while you were growing inside her?”

“For fifty-five years she carried me, slowing my growth and using me to make her great weapon,” Loki sighed, “I was just an experiment to her, like my children were to Angrboda.”

Sigyn’s hand jerked and she grabbed his with a vice-like grip. “Loki…”

“That’s what I had learned that day. Today I learned that Kvasir was the one to slay her, because he knew who she really was,” Loki dropped his eyes to look at Sigyn who met his gaze with worried eyes. “Her real name was Gróa Geirmundardóttir.”

“The traitor of Vanaheim?” Sigyn murmured, closing her eyes and turning her head away, mouth open in shock, or was it horror?

“It would seem I am the heir to scum and evil,” sighed Loki, pulling his hand away. “Kvasir killed her on the orders of your parents.”

Sigyn nodded, “I knew they had ordered her death, everyone knew that.”

“She also burned down the Asgardian library, but I know no more about that.”

“Well… isn’t this a delightful mess,” Sigyn sighed, “Your mother caused my realm to descend into vicious civil war, costing thousands and thousands of lives… which lead directly to my creation. And if my parents had not ordered Kvasir to kill her, you and I might never have been together.”

“What a romantic way of looking at it,” Loki snorted, shaking his head. “Makes it sound almost like we were fated to be together.”

“If we are fated… what does that mean for Fenrir?” Sigyn asked quietly, not looking at him, but she caught the way Loki wrinkled his nose and she sighed heavily, “Oh what else has happened?”

Loki told her about Hel’s visit. To his confusion, rather than seeming pleased at the news, Sigyn was incensed.

“Some foul person was so scared of a possible future that they condemned an innocent baby to eternal torture?” she hissed, flushed with rage. “Oh… I will make them pay for that!”

“Huh…” Loki raised his eyebrows, “That never even occurred to me.”

Sigyn frowned at him, “What?”

Loki furrowed his brow as he turned to look at her in some confusion, “I… I never really thought about making the person pay. I just thought about how I would undo the curse. That… that’s very much not like me.”

“No, it is not you at all.” Sigyn looked scared again. “Loki… how do you feel about Thor?”

“Thor? I miss the familiarity of his presence, but I don’t particularly care about his absence in any way.” Loki answered, frown deepening as he realised, “That isn’t the right answer is it?”

Sigyn edged back a little, “What about Odin? How do you feel about him?”

Loki thought hard, then shrugged, “He raised me as a Prince of Asgard, rather than enslave me. I suppose I should be grateful for that. And I don’t particularly care for his opinion of me –this isn’t right at all!” Loki got to his feet and began to pace.

“You’re a man of intense passions Loki,” said Sigyn in a quiet voice, “You’re a jealous, petty, excitable, tempestuous man… where has all that gone?”

“I… I don’t know,” Loki murmured faintly. Then he turned to Sigyn, “But isn’t this better? I’m far more rational now. I’m not so easily pulled from focus because of my feelings.”

Sigyn swallowed and reached up, untying the front of her night dress and pulling it open. Loki looked at the full swell of her breasts as she approached him, not resisting as she kissed him, putting his arms around her. He kissed her, willing his desire to rise, knowing what they were both fearing and worried when it seemed to be true.

“Do you want me?” Sigyn asked against his lips. Loki was frozen, knowing what he should say, what he should feel, but instead he only felt mild interest. His body was responding right, but his mind was not.

“Something’s wrong with me,” he said faintly. “My body is reacting right, but there’s… there’s no intense feeling to it. Just a process of blood moving through my veins. I still feel… but it’s as if everything is muted. How did I not notice this before?”

“Did you assume it would fade?”

Loki nodded, recalling how peaceful he had felt sitting with Odin, and acknowledging it would fade away with time. Only it had not, not completely. His mind had regained some of its habits of thinking a thousand things at once, but instead of making him hyperactive or chaotic, he was cool and calm.

Sigyn pulled away from him, retying her dress and sitting back down on the bed.

“Maybe I’m just tired,” Loki offered, “I’ve not slept since the transformation… well I’ve tried, but it leads to magical accidents that makes what happened when I got the hiccups as a baby look like nothing.”

“Your seiðr is uncontrollable when you sleep,” said Sigyn bluntly.

“I’m trying to get it under control.”

“What if you can’t? What’s going to happen to you?”

Loki had no answer. He reached out to her, then drew back as he remembered.

“Kvasir was doing some research for me about it! Sverrir said some of it might help me sleep.”

“Well, go get it.”

Loki started to summon it, but the look on Sigyn’s face made him rethink that idea. So he walked out to get it. When he came back, Sigyn had moved his table and shifted the two chairs in the room, so they could study the new information. Loki smiled faintly at the familiar set up, this was how they used to spend nights together years ago, when they were both full of excitement about their studies. He sat down in the free chair and set the bound notes down, opening the leather. The papers were covered in Kvasir’s handwriting.

“Kvasir’s books are no longer being welcomed by some Vanirian states,” Sigyn said quietly, picking up a sheet.

“Why not?”

“Because he’s Asgardian.”

Loki sighed and rolled his eyes, picking up the first sheet of information. Sigyn conjured some wine from the cellar of Asgard, which they sipped at as they read in silence. At some point Loki’s hand drifted down to rest on Sigyn’s knee, idly rubbing it as he read the notes carefully. There were only twenty five pages to read, but Kvasir had done his best to gather as much information as he could and Loki was pleased with the amount he had found, as well as what he had deduced and conjectured about what Loki could now do and what risks there were to him and those around him.

“There are lots of myths in this research,” said Sigyn, skimming her fingertip over the rim of her cup slowly. “And none of them end well.”

Loki nodded in agreement. Most of the myths about sorcerers transcending their physical bonds and forging a new body from seiðr said that they had gone mad within a century, and either self-destructed, or harmed many until they were put down. He twitched his shoulders in a slight shudder, pushing a sheet forward. 

“This one seems to refer to a similar state as my own muted feelings.”

“But not how to undo it,” Sigyn sighed and picked up another sheet. “At least Kvasir was able to determine a way for you to get some rest without causing chaos.”

“Yes… I must admit I have not meditated for a while. I’m rather out of practise.”

Sigyn lifted her head, “I still do it, maybe I could help you.”

Loki smiled, squeezing her knee. “I would like that.”

Sigyn picked up a sheet with a drawing of a figure on it. Drawn in the figure’s body were seven circles, one in the crown of his head, the next in his forehead, then his throat, his chest, his solar plexus, in his lower abdomen and then at the base of the spine. “Kvasir seems to believe that aligning your seven víkjandi will keep you in a state of self-containment. I do that regularly, so I can help you do it.”

Loki sighed, rubbing his face with his hands. “It would be nice to rest.”

Sigyn smiled, but Loki could see it was false. He reached out and took her hands in his, “Sigyn, I’m going to be fine. We’ll figure this out.”

“You might be fine, but I’m afraid that you might not be my Loki anymore.”

“It might take time for me to settle, but I’m still your husband. I still love you.” Loki brought her hands to his lips, kissing her fingers. Sigyn swallowed, twisting her hands to lace their fingers together.

“But you don’t want me, not the way you used to.”

Loki kissed her fingers again, sighing quietly as he folded their hands in her lap. “Like I said, it might just take time. I still want to be with you, still want to be in your bed, in your arms.”

Sigyn nodded, turning her face away and tugging her hands free, she rose to her feet. “Come on, I’ll help you meditate, and then I have to go.”

Knowing he would never be able to convince her until he was actually better, Loki stripped off his clothing and lay down on his back. Sigyn knelt at his head, knees just brushing his hair, wrapping her fingers around the back of his skull and neck, holding it steady.

“We’ll start with breathing, then I’ll take you through each one of the víkjandi, and finally we’ll try to align them. Hopefully it will suspend your seiðr until you are rested enough.”

Loki looked up at Sigyn’s face, upside down and gave her a small smile. She gave a small one of her own, but there was more sadness than joy in it. Loki closed his eyes and let Sigyn’s voice guide him through the slow steps of the meditation. He sank deep inside himself, and sensed his seiðr retract into a flowing river that passed gently through his body, unimpeded and constant as his víkjandi turned like water mills, keeping the flow going.

From a muzzy distance he felt Sigyn kiss his brow.

“I have to go. Rest now. We’ll deal with this as it comes.”

Loki wanted her to stay, but knew she had to go. He sensed her getting off the bed, and as she walked away, he had a strange sense that something between them had been broken, or lost. But he was too deep into his meditation to risk breaking it and chasing after her. He just had to hope that he could resolve the problem before he lost her.


	41. The Topic of Women

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the subject of Loki's marriage becomes more open, Loki and his peers find themselves pondering the fairer sex.

_Loki,_

_Do not think I’m running away from you, I’m not. And don’t think I’m avoiding this, because I am not. But I think it might be best if I concentrated on improving my situation at home, rather than dividing my time between you and here. If I can prove myself here, then we can be officially married and I can be with you openly and without fear. And then I can help you._

_I’m sorry Loki, I want to be there for you, but if I am, I’ll be ignoring my duties, and I can’t do that. It’ll be a mess for everyone, and we’ll never be married in truth._

_I can still write to you, and if you really need me I can try to come, but I need to work here. I don’t know what’s best to do, but I can’t help but feel that a short term of absence from you now will mean great gains for everyone in the long run._

_I’ll see you at the Ostara Festival._

_I love you._

_Sigyn._

Loki read the letter seven times before folding it and putting it away in his breast pocket. He sighed and picked at his meal, turning her words over in his mind.

A short term absence for a long term gain. It made sense.

It didn’t mean he had to like it.

“Are you not hungry majesty?”

Loki looked up at Hlin who was gathering Frigga’s plate. He gave a rueful smile and shook his head.

“No, you can take the plate Hlin.”

As Hlin walked away, Frigga turned a shrewd gaze on him.

“Is something wrong Loki?”

Loki shook his head, “Not really. Princess Sigyn has confirmed her attendance at the Ostara Festival with Queen Aetril. I’m just… mulling over the idea of the two women being together since I haven’t made any official suit to either.”

“Have you not decided then?” Frigga asked in a very light voice. Loki sighed,

“You don’t have to pretend mother, I know you favour a Vanirian marriage. But I… let’s just say I’m concerned by the fact that King Njordr and Queen Skadi have not made even a mild inquiry about it. It’s their decision who their daughter marries after all.”

“Unless Sigyn could make a convincing argument,” said Frigga, sipping her wine.

“As if her parents ever listen to her,” snorted Loki, unfolding another letter, this one from Queen Aetril via official channels confirming her own attendance and that Prince Berach would be going with her, as well as her youngest two children.

“Loki…”

Loki looked up at his mother who was watching him with an odd expression on her face, as if she was outraged and amused and proud all at once. It was a look Loki was rather familiar with, usually appearing after a particularly clever prank.

“Yes?”

Frigga drew in a deep breath and then shook her head, “What do you want out of this marriage?”

“Didn’t we talk about this yesterday?”

“I mean, which woman would you prefer in your heart?”

“That is irrelevant. I am a king, I need a queen who makes sense as a spouse and a ruler.”

“But you said yourself you wanted only one woman in your bed.”

“And I meant it. And maybe as a second son that could have been the woman I loved, but now that is not important.”

“I think you’ll find that it is. Yes, if you were to love a woman that went against everything Asgard stands for, people would be unhappy. And if it were, say, a Jötnar woman, then it would be unpopular. But you know our people love grand tales, and high emotions. It would fill them with great joy to see you marry a woman you loved. That is why courting is so important to us. It’s not just a negotiation between families, it’s to help ensure love between the couple.”

Loki’s face was not heating up, it really was not.

“Mother…”

“Loki.” Frigga’s voice was stern now, “If you love someone, if you’ve already found a woman who you want to marry, it would be much better for everyone if you would say so now, rather than playing some long winded game to manipulate everyone around you to get what you want.”

Loki sipped at his wine, smirking faintly, “Oh I don’t think so mother. If I am to get what I want, there must only be one way things can go, my way.”

“There is no shame in admitting genuine emotion.”

“Unless they are the wrong emotions. And I have often found that my emotions are the wrong ones, regardless of reason or situation. So it is better that I say nothing of my feelings, and stick with what people think me best at. Trickery, manipulation and tactics.”

“Even if people get hurt?”

“Someone always gets hurt. But I’ll be damned if it’s me.” Loki wiped his mouth with his napkin and rose to his feet. “I’ll see you at dinner mother.” He was at the door before Frigga’s voice made him stop.

“We wouldn’t have taken her from you if you had told us Loki. And it breaks my heart that you thought we would.”

For a full twenty seconds Loki froze. When he finally turned his head to Frigga, he searched her face for answers. What did she know? How much did she know? Was it dangerous for her to know? Frigga’s face was pinched, anger and grief mixing with guilt. It was that guilt that restored Loki’s voice,

“Of course you would have. You intended her for Thor. Thor gets everything I wish for, so why would I risk it? Why would I risk telling you when you had taken my son from me and chained him down out of fear of some prophecy that’s more than likely self-fulfilling?”

Frigga’s expression crumbled, “Loki, you have to know your father and I did not want to do it. We were heartbroken to cause you such pain but we were warned that-”

“The warning was a lie,” Loki stated. In the ringing silence that followed, Frigga was on her feet, colour leaving her face.

“What?”

Loki gave her a cool smirk, “The prophecy that said my son would kill Odin? A lie. He is destined to kill someone else, supposedly, and that person altered the prophecy, putting Odin’s name in instead.”

Frigga’s hand flew to her mouth and she rushed to Loki, grabbing his arm, “Loki, I swear we did not know! If we had we never would have-”

“You should never have done it at all. Would you have allowed it to be done to me? To Thor? I think you would have done it to me, perhaps with Thor you might have fought a bit harder. Yet, in the end, you were cold enough to do it for Asgard’s safety –for Odin’s safety.” He reached up and brushed his thumb over his mother’s cheek, “So don’t tell me my feelings matter in the slightest to this realm. They never have, and they never will.”

Frigga stumbled back and stared at Loki as if he were a stranger. He gave a small smile, such a look seemed very appropriate.

“I’ll see you at dinner mother.”

**~*~**

That day was about planning the Ostara Festival with the council, and appointing Dag Dellingson as Kvasir’s substitute. King Andvari of the Dwarves would be sending an ambassador in his stead to the festival, along with Queen Aetril and Sigyn that was three of the other realms attending. Tyr brought word from Heimdall that there were strange goings on among the Eldjötnar, causing friction on the Jötunheim, which Asgard could only watch carefully and wait. The issue of Loki’s marriage came up again as the last subject of the day.

“I’ve been informed that Prince Berach intends to push a suit to marry Princess Sigyn,” Loki said with a careful tone. “That, coupled with Queen Aetril’s intentions towards me has led me to the conclusion that Alfheim intends to take advantage of the current situation to place themselves in a better position.”

“Clever elves,” Tyr muttered. “With their age and experience, both Queen Aetril and Prince Berach would hope to influence yourself and Princess Sigyn –and everyone knows that the princess has little interest in ruling.”

Loki’s stomach twisted but he simply shook his head, “I do not wish to jeopardise Asgard’s place in the Nine Realms, and I fear marrying the Queen will do so.”

“Which means that Princess Sigyn would be the ideal choice,” Sverrir said, “In fact, she’s perfect. After all, with respect majesty, you won’t have this throne forever, unless Odin and Thor give it up. You could easily become King of Vanaheim, not just Prince Consort, without issue since the princess has no interest in ruling.”

“Vanaheim would be under Asgard control once more, we would have access to their armies,” Tyr said with a satisfied nod.

“I’m not so sure that will work,” Freyr said quietly, “My people are very stubborn about who gets to marry our princess, and regardless of your majesty’s appeal, you are a second son. That alone may interfere. And I have been getting letters from my informants in Vanaheim that civil unrest is stirring again, mostly at the disappointment in the princess, but it’s being directed at Asgard. Vanaheim will be more open to an Alfheim marriage rather than an Asgardian one.”

“So maybe we’ll just have to play on the Princess’ feelings. If you can get her to fall in love with you, majesty, then surely the Vanir, in their infinite and obsessive love for her will give her whatever she wants.”

Or maybe Sigyn could show them she was strong enough to care for Vanaheim’s interests, regardless of her husband, Loki thought with no small degree of worry. It was a lot to ask of her in such a short space of time.

“We’re in no rush. Let’s see how things go at the Ostara Festival, keep our options open,” he said, rubbing at a growing headache. “I think that’s enough for now, you have your orders. Sverrir, do you wish to join me in the training arena?”

“Of course majesty, you wish to train?”

Loki extended his hand, showing his callus free skin, “I wish to regain what I have lost.”

Sverrir glanced down and then up at Loki’s eyes. He visibly gulped, realising that this was not just a playful exercise. Still, he nodded.

“Maybe Dag, Reifer and Mýrkjartan would care to join us. That way I may come out of this alive.”

Loki smirked.

**~*~**

As it turned out, it was a good idea to invite the other men too. They were all eager to have a turn, and Loki’s hands were bleeding quite heavily by the time he took a break, leaving Sverrir and Reifer to sword fight.

“It’s more interesting now without the Warriors Three and Lady Sif always trouncing us,” said Dag as he sat next to Loki, holding out a cloth to clean away the blood. “No one stood a chance with them around, especially if Prince Thor was here too.” His smile dropped as he looked at Loki, “I just mean that-”

“It’s fine,” Loki smirked, wiping at his hand. “I don’t miss their domineering behaviour either.”

“They are great warriors,” Mýrkjartan said, offering wine, “But the truth is their domination prevented others from having any chance to grow.” Dag took the wine from his hand, giving him a narrow-eyed look.

“You know, for a man with no history, you know a lot about ours,” said Dag. “Where do you hail from Mýrkjartan? What’s your father’s name? How do you know Sverrir?”

“I know Sverrir through his wife, Ilmr,” said Mýrkjartan. “I was a gardener in the Observatory in Vanaheim, where she was conducting experiments. Sverrir would pay her visits when he was courting her, and we became acquainted by his asking me for flower gifts for her. But that was a very long time ago.”

“Ilmr worked at the Vanirian Observatory?” Loki blinked, he had never known that about Sverrir’s wife. “What did she do?”

“As I recall she was studying a kind of pulsing star that is incredibly powerful, the sort of power that would make a weapon exceeding Mjölnir if it could be harnessed.”

“But…” _she’s a woman_ was clearly on the tip of Dag’s tongue, but he wisely held it back. “That’s a very unusual job for an Asynjur.”

“Which makes it all the more impressive.” Loki looked out at Sverrir who was pushing Reifer back with all his strength, face red with effort. “Sverrir, why did you never mention your wife was a scholar of stars?”

Sverrir’s head snapped to the side to look at Loki, then he yelped as he lost his balance and fell to the ground. He rolled onto his front and looked up at Loki, panting.

“I’m sorry?”

“Your wife, Mýrkjartan says she worked in the Vanirian Observatory, studying stars. Why did you never tell us?” Dag asked. Sverrir shrugged, pushing himself to his knees.

“It’s not something Aesir find very interesting… or even appropriate.”

“Maybe, but I would be happy to talk to Ilmr about it,” said Loki, sipping his wine.

Sverrir jumped to his feet like a shot, “No! I mean –please don’t. You know how shy she is, if you brought it up she would feel cornered and embarrassed.”

“But it’s an impressive work area. It takes a lot of dedication to get into the Observatory.”

“But it is not seen as appropriate for women. It’s a male run group –she was denied access to the Observatory here even just as an amateur. If you brought it up in public to her, she would feel humiliated. It’s why she went to Vanaheim, they may have civil unrest bubbling under the surface, but at least everyone gets a say in it.”

“That doesn’t seem very fair,” said Mýrkjartan, swirling his wine in his cup.

“It’s just how things are here,” said Dag, “Everyone has a place. Women in the home, men in the world.”

“That’s a terrible ratio of space,” said Mýrkjartan. “If I were a woman I’d go mad with claustrophobia.”

“And it’s a waste of skills that they could have,” said Loki, shaking his head. “Sif’s only place is on the battlefield, can you imagine how miserable she would be without a weapon in her hand?”

“Well, Ilmr certainly misses the Observatory,” said Sverrir, edging closer to them.

“Well, I could have a word with them,” said Loki, gesturing for more wine. “Why don’t you send me some of her work, it may not be my usual subject, but I’ll know enough to see what it’s worth.”

Sverrir’s eyes widened, “Oh, majesty, I would, but I know my wife, she would be too intimidated by the men in the Observatory to go near it, even with your authority. I wouldn’t put her through that.”

“Don’t you think you’re being a little patronising to your wife?” Dag asked, “After all, if she’s as intelligent as you say…”

“She’s incredibly intelligent, I hope all our children inherit it from her. But she’s not one for upsetting a system, even if it hurts her. She’s like Hlin, you know how nervous she is.”

“I don’t know, Hlin was brave enough to kiss the king…” Mýrkjartan sipped his wine to hide a smirk.

“So that rumour is true?” Dag asked looking at Loki in surprise. Loki gave a small shrug, resulting in Dag looking scandalised. “Why in the world would you say no, majesty?”

Loki narrowed his eyes, “Because I’ve no interest in using a girl for a short term pleasure, not when the resulting fallout would hurt her. I don’t find the idea of using women as objects to rut in particularly attractive.”

Dag huffed, “Oh majesty, give us some credit, it’s not so cruel as all that.”

Reifer nodded, “Do you think we’re like Freyr? Tenderly making love to his sister and then going home to leave bruises on his wife’s body?”

Loki raised an eyebrow, “I would never go that far. But then again, I’ve heard most people blame Freyr’s Vanirian heritage for his behaviour.”

“Freyr’s just a shit,” Dag said.

“Is it true that you intend to treat the outlaw women as men, majesty?” Mýrkjartan asked, pouring them more wine.

“I intend to treat the outlaws all the same,” said Loki, narrowing his eyes at his scabbing palms.

“We could think of it like an experiment,” said Sverrir, eyes bright, “I believe that most of the things we associate with the sexes is imbued in us by the world we live it. It’s not a natural thing.”

“I don’t know, I’m pretty sure it’s natural for men not to give birth,” Dag slapped his hip, “We don’t have the girth for it.”

They all laughed except for Sverrir who shook his head, “But we’re taught that women need our protection, and quite frankly if I was put in a dangerous situation with Lady Sif, I’d be quite willing to hide behind her.”

“You coward!” Reifer snorted.

“I’m not a coward, I’m a realist. Lady Sif would be able to deal with a threat much better than I, and I have no shame in admitting it.”

“Only if it’s a brunt attack. Sif’s less skilled if it’s a quick and agile attacker, although she’s better than Thor, Fandral or Volstagg,” said Loki.

“But that’s true for any warrior –you can’t be good at every form of combat,” said Sverrir, now looking slightly feverish in the eyes. “That doesn’t mean a woman shouldn’t be given a chance.”

“On Midgard,” Mýrkjartan said, now fiddling with a pipe he had produced from somewhere, “There was a city called Sparta. They had a remarkable military society, where children were born and the elders decided if they would be allowed to live or not, because every member had to be fit and strong enough to fight, male or female. Although the women of the society still were expected to be wives and mothers, they were fed the same food as their brothers, expected to exercise and be healthy and strong. It would ensure strong children, and these women were also trusted to know sense and wisdom in a way no other Midgardian women of the time were expected to. I heard of one woman who was asked by an Athenian why Spartan women were allowed to rule over men, and she replied because Spartan women are the only women who are mothers of men.”

“So by having women who took active participation in society, the society was further strengthened,” Sverrir nodded his head with a smirk. “I see the logic there.”

“So you think his majesty should turn these outlaw women into Spartan women?” Reifer laughed. Mýrkjartan inclined his head,

“I think the king can do whatever he wishes with them.”

“Prince Thor would probably like these Spartans, maybe he’ll get to meet them,” said Dag.

“I doubt that, the Spartans have been dead for two thousand years, and besides, I believe the prince would be bereft of his feasts and women, both of which were avoided in indulgence.”

Loki smirked, “Thor wouldn’t last a week. He’d show off his strength and then start sulking.”

“How is the prince, majesty? Is he proving his greatness on Midgard like a true Odinson?” Reifer asked.

Loki shrugged, “I have heard of no great troubles befalling him. I’m sure he’s fine. Now, come on Mýrkjartan, I wish to practise with the short knives.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say that I really, truly, appreciate all your lovely comments and kudos. I hope you continue to enjoy this fic as it progresses.


	42. The Warrior Falls, The Man Rises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor's frustrations at his helplessness boil over, as Darcy and Hogun force him to face the truth.

Thor sighed as he crossed off the day of the month. After tomorrow, he would have been on Midgard for six months, and he had nothing to show of it.

“Cheer up big guy,” said Darcy from where she was perched on the kitchen table in the small apartment, wearing one of Fandral’s shirts.

“I cannot,” said Thor grimly, capping the marker and letting go so it could dangle on its string. “I have never tasted such dishonourable defeat before. And by an enemy so humiliating.”

“A hammer in the ground?”

“Myself.” Thor turned away from the calendar and sat down on the couch. “It is my failings that have prevented me from lifting Mjölnir. I just wish I knew what my father seeks of me!”

Darcy shrugged, playing with the clothing she held in her hands, “Well, maybe you’re obsessing too much –or obsessing about the wrong thing.”

“Of what do you speak?”

“Well, maybe the way this mojo is supposed to work isn’t meant to be based on what your dad wants, I mean, even if he is a great king, he may not be the one who decides what makes you a good king.”

Thor frowned, “Odin is a great and wise king, he would know what it is that I lack.”

“But if he knew, wouldn’t he have made it more obvious? Like… ‘learn not to be a pompous jackass’. Unless of course…” Darcy pursed her lips and tilted her head.

“Unless…?” Thor prodded with barely retained patience. Sometimes getting information from Darcy was like trying to squeeze liquid from a stone –as a mortal man of course.

“Unless this is one of those ‘Christmas Carol’ things where you’ve gotta do something you don’t normally do in order to prove you’ve changed. Y’know, like Scrooge, or the Grinch.”

“I do not know who those people are, but I can assume they are fictional, since you often make such references.”

Darcy grinned and jabbed her finger at him, “You’re learning!”

Thor looked away before he rolled his eyes. For some reason Darcy seemed to think he was very slow –adopting the manner Loki did when talking about complex magicks whenever she brought up science or references. At least Loki was often right about Thor’s lack of understanding, but in those cases it had been as much that Thor hadn’t cared what Loki was trying to teach him. Usually he was interested in what his mortal friends had to say.

“You’re sulking,” said Darcy a moment later.

“I am not.”

“Dude, you so are sulking. C’mon, I know you well enough to know when you’re sulking.” Darcy hopped off the table and sat down next to him. “You miss home, don’t you? Even with your giant goats and best friends with you, you miss it.”

Thor sighed and relaxed next to her, “I miss my parents, my home, my brother. I miss the familiarities of it, and… well, I miss being able to go to Vanaheim with my friends, where we would go to taverns and indulge in the beautiful women. I feel trapped, in this town, in this home, in my own body, and I just want to end this purgatory.”

“Well, tough shit.”

Thor glared at her. Darcy shrugged, “Dude, it’s been six months, and I know you’re trying, but you seriously need to suck it up and deal. You do realise your friends are walking on eggshells around you, despite the fact that they’re pretty miserable here too. Volstagg’s always hungry, but he’s finally learnt that he can’t just eat all he wants because you guys can’t afford it. Hogun finds your goats better company, Fandral works overtime to avoid coming home and I caught Sif crying in the bathroom a few weeks ago because being here has caused her to have a complete freak out over who she is… at least I think that’s the problem, she kicked me out when I asked if she was ok.”

“Sif was weeping?”

“Yes dumbass!”

Thor frowned, “I had not realised.”

“No you hadn’t, and I’m betting you wouldn’t have noticed if someone close to you in Asgard was miserable either.” Darcy fixed her glasses on her nose and raised an eyebrow at him, “Maybe that’s what daddy wants you to figure out.”

For some reason Thor thought of Loki and he sighed. “I will think on what you have said… perhaps you’re right.”

“Or… you could cut the rest of us a break, drop the pouting prince attitude and start making an effort with your friends. And with Jane, because, seriously, your UST with her is driving me crazy.”

“UST?”

“Unresolved Sexual Tension,” Darcy smirked. “You two really need to work that out.”

“The way you and Fandral do?” Thor snapped, then reeled back at his own words, “I apologise.”

“’s cool Blondie, I don’t give a shit what anyone else thinks about my choices. I’m a college student, I’m totally within my rights to hop into bed with a hot alien dude who acts like he’s Robin Hood.” Darcy tossed her hair over her shoulder.

Thor rubbed at his forehead and stood up. “I will heed your advice Darcy, but if you’ll excuse me, I need a walk to clear my head.”

**~*~**

Over the six months that Thor and his friends had been on Midgard, they had settled into a relatively regular pattern. They knew many of the people in the building they shared, they knew the elderly couple that had been kind enough to give up their back garden to Thor’s goats, the Avanas. Sif knew the regulars of the tavern –bar –after spending night after night seeing them and listening to their chatter, while Thor and Volstagg had made friends with the Mehicans who they worked with on the fields and Fandral was, unsurprisingly, popular with the ladies of the town. It was a good thing Darcy was not the jealous type. Hogun had kept to his usual silent self, which put some people off, but his employer loved him for it.

Most of the children in the town loved Thor’s goats, and regularly visited them, which seemed to please the Avanas, and through the children, and Darcy, the five had been introduced to the culture of Midgard, especially the television. Watching live-action films was rather familiar, Vanaheim had something similar. What was stranger for the Asgardians was the ‘cartoons’ and ‘anime’ that the children and Darcy had shown them. The idea that the drawings were moving without magic, that it was all an illusion by speed and recorded voices, was incredible to them. When they were not working they often watched some programme or another, such as the yellow skinned Son of Simp and his family, or the fighting mutant turtles, and the Family Man. When Thor was feeling particularly homesick he would watch a group of six brightly coloured horses with high pitched voices have adventures in their village, because five of them reminded him of his mother’s handmaidens. Darcy swore to secrecy about it.

Darcy had also introduced them to another programme set in Midgard’s past, about warriors and brotherhoods, which was scandalously bloody and erotic, and had Thor dreaming of days at battle and nights in brothels. He would have enjoyed doing battle with these gladiators, they were fearless in the face of death, revelling in honour and glory above all things. Their battles in the arena were not unlike the fights in the Hólmgangustadr, although any who fell there were honoured, rather than forgotten.

Thor missed participating in tournaments in the Hólmgangustadr, which had been a fixture in the city’s horizon since he had been born. Sometimes he had dreams that he was fighting in it, with Loki sitting in the king’s seat, watching him with contempt as he struggled against a cat that was so heavy he could not lift one of its paws. The cat always defeated him with a single paw on his chest holding him down, and Loki would rise to his feet and say,

“You are unworthy of this Realm, unworthy of your title, unworthy of your life.”

The black wolf at Loki’s feet snarled and barked over the roar of the crowd, as Loki lifted Gungnir and shouted,

“I, Loki Odinson, in the name of my father, cast you into the depths of Niflheim, forever to suffer.”

A blast of Gungnir would send him tumbling, down, down, down into the cold of Niflheim, where Laufey would be waiting for him, laughing and bleeding and then –Thor would wake up in a cold sweat and shivering. He never got back to sleep after that dream, and felt the weight of it all through the day as he worked under the softening sun.

Jane had told him that winter was about to begin, when the calendar reached the end of this month of October, and as the days had shortened, something Thor had never experienced before, he felt his usual determination start to slip away. ‘ _Winter Blues_ ’ Erik had called it, despite it still being autumn. Whatever name they gave it, in recent weeks Thor had spent less time out of the apartment when he wasn’t working or staring at Mjölnir. It was as he had said to Darcy, he felt trapped in many layers of confinement in a way he could not break. Thor did not like losing, and had worked hard to ensure he never did. Yet in this battle, he had lost many times over and was beginning to despair of any hope in victory.

He had found his friends less of a comfort than he would have imagined. It was ridiculous, they were doing their absolute best to please him, as they always had, but Thor felt so out of his element, adrift in a sense of pointlessness that he could not feel anything but resentment. They were here for him, their duty was to help him, they had a purpose. Without his princehood, without his weapon, what was his purpose? Where was the enemy he could slay and be rewarded for? How low had he sunk to be crouched in the dirt, day after day, picking beans or whatever other plant needed picking because if they were not picked in time they would rot –and why couldn’t these mortals not find a way to keep their food longer lasting? Everything seemed to go off within days of buying it.

Everything was perishable, everything wasted away, even Thor himself. He had always eaten much for the pleasure of it, but now if he did not his body would rebel and punish him, aching and slowing down within hours. Unacceptable for a Prince of Asgard.

Yet it was also unacceptable for a Prince of Asgard to show ingratitude to his friends when they made such heavy sacrifices for him. There was expected loyalty and then there was going beyond that. It was also unacceptable for a Prince of Asgard to be ungrateful to those who had shown him such kindness, like Jane had. Since Thor had limited knowledge of the Bifrosts workings, he had not been able to help her beyond what he had told her that night six months ago. He had remembered that it was made of three elements, Fire, Air and Water, but the look on Jane’s face had indicated that this was a useless piece of knowledge to her.

Thor had thought Loki would have been able to explain it to her, but he was starting to doubt that, even if magic and science were one in the same on Asgard, and even if Loki was intelligent, there was much more of a disconnection between the two worlds than Thor had appreciated at first. Asgard was advanced, but they had nothing like a television, they had nothing like video games, iPods, or many of the things Midgardian were practically fused to.

Asgard had no such thing as the internet, no such thing as rockets and satellites, at least, not in the way Earth did. Asgard did have an observatory, but Thor had only liked it for the better view of the night sky so Loki could tell him stories, or when he was older so he could take a fair maiden to see the stars and tell the stories himself.

In some ways, Thor felt like he was stuck in a world that his brother would be more suited for. High intellect, delicate machines, intricacies that held no appeal to Thor. If there was a black smiths here somewhere, he would have been able to fashion swords and even some elegant statues, because although it was commoners work, Thor had wanted to understand the way weapons were forged, to make better use of them. He had even studied under the dwarves for a year about the subject.

Thor was not stupid!

But he felt it in this world. Nothing in this world really appealed to his intellect. No one was willing to discuss tactics with him, except Señor Avanas who would play chess with him, but that was limited to that board. Darcy had given them a game called Risk, but Thor had objected to the way the game was so reliant on dice, because that wasn’t proper tactics.

It was as if everything Thor had spent his life learning and studying was absolutely useless and unappreciated on this world and it was enough to throw him into a tantrum.

_If he could do magic and tricks he would probably get more credit._

That thought kept coming back to him and annoying him like a tickle he could not reach. The idea that being more like Loki would probably serve him well on this planet sent him burning with jealousy in a manner he did not like. It was bad enough that Loki had always been smarter than him, bad enough that their father never hounded him like he did Thor, bad enough that his parents had worried over Loki so much after he disappeared, but now none of the things that Thor excelled at, just to prove himself, mattered a jot in this world. _It wasn’t fair!_

Thor yelped as his fist slammed through a wall and wedged there.

“Thor!”

Jane came running up to him from across the street and grabbed his arm to try and help him tug it free.

“Oh what were you thinking?” she groaned.

“Clearly I wasn’t,” Thor growled, giving an almighty yank and freeing his hand, although it hurt more than it should have. “Clearly I have no thoughts in my head at any time.”

“What are you talking about?” Jane frowned.

“I speak of the continuing humiliation I suffer, I speak of the fact that everyone in this tiny town think me a fool. As if I have not lived longer than any of you, as if I have not led men into battle, not seen the likes of your technology before. You think yourselves so impressive by your technology when all it does is weaken you! You tiny little mortals, with your brief existence, your laws that deny men any honour, your-”

“Thor!”

Thor turned. Hogun was striding across the street from his place of work. He was openly scowling and to Thor’s astonishment, he grabbed Thor by the shoulder and dragged him away from Jane, into a solitary alley way.

“You dare lay hands on me so?” Thor roared, struggling.

“I dare because if you do not calm down then none of us are going to go home,” Hogun hissed, pushing Thor against the wall. “You think you are the only one who suffers here? We all suffer. We all suffer for you. You who rage at us for our very presence. What has become of our great and noble prince? The warm-hearted man who made everyone feel happier by his presence? Are you so small now without your great home around you?”

It may have been the most Hogun had ever said in one go to Thor, and that alone rendered him speechless. He sagged against the wall and sank to the ground, eyes stinging with tears.

“I do not know what to do anymore. I cannot think of anything that will prove my worth. What if I never succeed?”

“We ask only that you try,” said Hogun, “Perhaps that is all Odin asks of you too.”

Thor sighed and buried his face in his hands. His right hand was really starting to ache.

A small touch on his arm made him look up. Jane gave him a small smile,

“Come on, we need to clean this hand up, then maybe you’ll let us help you with this quest of yours. You probably just need someone to think outside your box.”

Thor nodded, feeling subdued as he let Hogun and Jane take him to her garage and clean his hand. Soon Darcy, Erik, Fandral, Sif and Volstagg arrived, casting him worried looks as he sat at the table, fiddling with the butterfly plasters on his knuckles. Thor watched as Fandral’s arm snaked around Darcy’s waist as she opened bottles of beer, as Volstagg stirred a pot of stew for everyone and did not sneak bites as he worked, while Jane cut more vegetables that Volstagg had been allowed to bring home. Sif shoved her apron from work into her bag like it was an embarrassing item to have. He watched as Erik and Hogun fixed a hinge in the door that had been wobbling. And Thor felt ashamed.

“My friends,” he called quietly. Silence fell and they all turned to him warily. “I… have not been myself of late. Or perhaps I have been myself, only myself in a situation where I was not getting my way. I would like to apologise, for the difficulties I have caused you, and the ingratitude I have shown. I have been selfish, focused only on my own problem, and blinding myself to yours. I am sorry.

“By my count, the Ostara Festival has just come and gone on Asgard. It is a festival of renewal and rebirth. Maybe we could mark it as a second chance for me to set things right.”

There was an uncomfortable silence, with his Asgardian friends looking particularly uneasy. Thankfully Darcy broke it with her usual forthrightness,

“Well, that’s a good start. What else you got?”

Thor huffed a laugh, “Honestly I don’t know. I am out of ideas, and unlike my brother, I cannot come up with fresh ones.”

“You really think Loki would have submitted to this life the way you have?” Sif demanded, “He may be more suited to the intricacies of this world, but he would never accept being a crop worker, even if it meant destitution. He is too proud for that.”

“I really don’t think that’s Thor’s point,” said Jane.

“Must you always use every mention of the man to insult him? Technically he’s still our king and we really don’t need him angry with us,” Volstagg sighed.

“And he is still my brother. Maybe you could use this time to let go of an insult that was dealt centuries ago,” Thor grumbled. Sif folded her arms and scowled, hunching into herself.

“Me thinks the lady sees something of herself in Thor’s baby bro, something she doth not like,” Darcy sing-songed into Fandral’s ear.

“Darcy,” Jane scolded, “Let’s not start fights.”

“Indeed, let us eat heartily instead, and then we might find ourselves an idea to aid us.” Volstagg lifted the large pot to the table and Thor rose to his feet to pick up the bowls for the meal. A tense silence fell over everyone as they started to eat. Then Fandral sighed,

“Is it really Ostara?”

Thor nodded, “I think so.”

“Ah, I wish you mortals could see the festival. Five days of revelry, celebrating fertility and birth. Many a child is conceived during the celebrations,” Fandral grinned, lifting his glass of milk up. “The Vanir bring their best dancers –do you recall the times Princess Sigyn would perform for the whole court, a song or dance?”

Thor nodded, “There were times I thought she had no bones in her body, she moved so gracefully.” He didn’t add that those memories had kept him company at night. He may never have really wanted her as a wife, but when he had been younger, he had appreciated her figure.

“It’s been a long time since we saw that. Then again, longer still since Loki participated in it. Do you remember his fire dances?”

Thor grinned faintly, nodding, “Yes, I think he would have had the pick of any woman in the court after that if he had not been so shy.”

“Did you participate?” Erik asked.

“Of course, although I tended to sing a rousing, and when I was older, bawdy song to amuse everyone.”

“But really it’s the Vanir who dominate the festival, even in Asgard,” Volstagg sighed with longing.

“They’re the fertility Gods, and you Asgardians are the war Gods, at least that’s how I learned it,” said Erik, helping himself to more stew.

“That is not untrue. But do not think the Vanir are without claws. They nearly defeated Asgard in the great war between our realms, and then nearly tore themselves apart in their more recent civil war.”

“What was the war between you about?” asked Darcy.

“It was a quarrel over who was more powerful, although it was begun when there was… an incident regarding a woman named Gullveig. She angered the court of Asgard with her greedy talk of gold and my grandfather attempted to kill her. But she was a very powerful sorceress –some say the most powerful in the Nine Realms, and was not easily slain, but our torture of her angered her people, the Vanir, and they declared war.”

“… sorry I asked.” Darcy put her spoon down looking unwell. Jane did the same, pale cheeked.

“Things are not the same as they were –have you not had terribly dark times of cruelty?” Fandral knew they had, all the Aesir at the table did, because Erik had made a point of showing them the intricate history of Midgard that had occurred within their lifetimes, the good and the terrible.

“True. But I guess it’s just hard to not think in our time rather than yours. Only three generations ago your people were fine with torturing someone for annoying you.”

“Nowadays we would challenge them to fight if they grew too irritating. That would settle the issue,” said Sif.

“And, what about the civil war?”

“Hmm… Hogun, you have blood in Vanaheim, what can you tell us?”

Hogun drained his glass and set it down. “Vanir do not like being under Asgard’s thumb. Some thought appeasement would bring them to equality. Others wished to fight for their freedom. A woman of great power –some say the daughter of Gullveig herself –sought to divide and conquer all for herself. She whispered deceit in the ears of the Kings in Vanaheim, the fathers of King Njordr and Queen Skadi, and set them against each other, her hope being to be the one to wrought peace in the wake of their war. But Queen Skadi discovered the truth and exposed her actions. No one knows how the woman died, only that it was done by Queen Skadi’s orders.”

“So… instead of fighting Asgard… they fought each other.”

“If they had, Asgard would have fallen to the Frost Giants, and that would have destroyed Midgard.”

“… this is one of those awkward moments where we have to be grateful for a war somewhere else, isn’t it?”

Hogun shrugged. “It is what it is.”

“Ok,” Jane clapped her hands, “We need a game plan, so let’s see if we can apply some science to this magic. If we can come up with a hypothesis, we can test it on Mjölnir, and see what results we get. That will hopefully help lead us to the ultimate answer that will restore Thor to his normal form.”

“Sounds good. We should start with what Thor has already tried and go from there,” said Erik.

“I’ll get a pad,” Darcy leapt to her feet and got the object, passing it to Jane. As Jane opened the pad to a clean page Thor reached out and covered her hand with his. She glanced down at it and then shyly up at his face.

“Thank you Jane,” he said quietly, earning a tiny smile from her.

“Don’t thank me until we get a result.”

They stayed up late into the night, talking and planning, and for the first time in a while, Thor felt at ease with himself. Especially when Jane let him hold her hand for much of the night. 


	43. The Diplomats of the Seven Realms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the first time in centuries, the traditional allies and enemies known as the Seven Realms, come together to celebrate Asgard's Ostara Festival.

Loki’s stomach should have been full of nerves. This was the largest event of his short reign, and he was playing host to some very important people from the Nine Realms. This festival was a display of his benevolence, his power and it was a celebration for his accession. The Queen of Alfheim was coming to press her intentions to him, and bringing her son to press intentions on Sigyn, while Loki and Sigyn had to play at friendship and nothing more. Five days of celebrations, careful lies, and his own self in a light he was not used to.

He should have been nervous.

He had called Abjörn for this one event to help him dress. He had commissioned new clothes for the event, his armour had been buffed and polished, his daggers sharpened. He let Abjörn help him bathe –no longer worried about awkward questions about the scar on his stomach –and relaxed as he combed his wet hair.

“Your skin is like marble now, majesty,” Abjörn commented. Loki opened one eye to look at him dubiously. Abjörn smirked, “I just mean it has a sheen I have not seen before, and it feels… smoother.”

Loki gave a lazy smirk, “One must be grateful when seiðr is considerate, and doesn’t leave you covered in fish scales.”

Abjörn chuckled, “Indeed. Your hair too, it’s as thick as your brother’s now.”

“And yet none of his muscles,” Loki lifted his head and sat up, “Have the gifts been prepared?”

“Yes majesty, of course.”

“One for every diplomat?”

“Yes majesty.”

“The decorations? Are they up?”

“Of course. Majesty, don’t worry, I have done this many times before and I hope to do so again.”

“I know that, but this is not just a festival, it’s a celebration to my coronation.”

“And I have adjusted accordingly.”

“Well, what about the plans for the children’s run?”

“That is as prepared as we can be without your final works. It will be your final spell that will complete the plan.”

Loki nodded, glancing down at his hands. He had been practising his seiðr very carefully for the past month and had been relieved to find that his seiðr was coming back under his control. The more he meditated the better his control was getting. The spells he had practised were careful and delicate, the better to reign in the power. However, his hope was to perform a single, great and playful spell for the children of Asgard, and he had no idea if he would be able to do it without causing damage.

Yet he knew this was the best chance to do it. As a young prince he had been known for his affection for children and his love of games, and as he had moved beyond the pain of his own, that had continued. He wanted to remind the people that he had that affection still, despite the magical transformation, which had made the people uneasy and nervous of him. He had to show them he was still a kindly king –though not weak of course, which he would prove by his wordless and unarmed control of his guests.

He clenched his fists and nodded to himself. He would manage this spell, as he had always managed his seiðr. This was a game, a bit of gentle mischief, something he had been good at since he was a boy. He was in his element.

“It’s time to dress majesty,” Abjörn said gently. Loki climbed out of his bath and allowed Abjörn to dry him and dress him. He felt awkward, but allowed it this once because he had to look truly kingly. He was like a babe coming amongst adults and he had to prove he was altogether more.

His helm was the last thing and he held it for a moment, staring at his own distorted reflection.

“Do not be nervous majesty,” Abjörn soothed, “Your silvertongue will serve you well.”

“I am not nervous,” said Loki before turning his head to Abjörn, giving a weak smirk, “That is what concerns me.”

He sighed and pulled his helm on, calling to Gungnir and to the wolves. Gungnir came to him at once, Geri and Freki met him as he passed their door. Tonight was just the arrival of the delegates from the Seven Realms, but it had to go perfectly.

“Everyone in the court awaits you majesty,” Sverrir said by way of greeting, fixing his own armour outside the closed door to the throne room. He, Dag, Reifer and Mýrkjartan would be accompanying Loki to his throne, just as his mother’s handmaidens would do the same for her. “And the delegates are arriving at the Bifrost Observatory.”

“Good.” Listening to the excited chatter inside the Throne Room, Loki growled at Geri and Freki to take their place, which the wolves did. “Where is my mother?”

“Here she comes.” Mýrkjartan gestured with his head. Loki turned to see Frigga striding towards him with the strength and grace he expected of her. Her handmaidens followed, wreaths of pink flowers in their hair. As she reached them she offered Loki a small smile, which he returned with a mild nod. They had not spoken much since their conversation regarding Fenrir, with Loki spending more time with Sverrir, Dag, Reifer and Mýrkjartan as a result. Hence why they were accompanying him now, he was willing to openly show his favouritism to them. 

“Mother,” he greeted.

“My King.” Frigga curtsied to him.

“The delegates have arrived, we should make sure we’re seated before they reach the palace.”

Frigga nodded and everyone fell into line. Frigga would stand a few steps behind Loki, the men and handmaids behind her. Loki stood before the door and raised Gungnir, bringing it down on the floor. The sound rang through the hall and the throne room, and the chatter inside fell quiet. Loki straightened his back and looked straight ahead as the doors were pulled open, revealing the Golden Throne room, full of people.

Abjörn had decked the whole hall with wreaths of flowers, tapestries with Loki’s symbol from the walls, the horns a fitting match for a fertility festival. Green and gold shone from glass hangings and petals fell from no specific spot, drifting down upon everyone’s heads. It looked beautiful, and Loki heard Frigga sigh in delight behind him as he made his way through along the grass carpet that lay under his feet. As he passed everyone bowed, and Loki glanced from side to side, taking in everyone he saw. As he looked to the right halfway along the walkway, he saw Thundi standing by the edge, clutching a white kitten that looked strong and healthy in his arms. Thundi beamed up at him and held out the kitten to show him. Loki gave a mild nod in approval and kept walking, knowing he could not stop. Out of the corner of his eye he thought he saw Thundi’s smile fall. Surely the boy couldn’t possibly have expected the king to stop for him.

He ascended the steps to his throne and turned to face the people as his mother took her place and the men lined up on Loki’s left along the steps, while the handmaids were on Frigga’s left. Loki looked around the Hall, at all the people looking up at him, even more than when he had warned of Odin’s prolonged sleep, and decided that a lack of nerves was a surprising benefit of his transformation. He rested Gungnir’s base on the golden floor and lifted his free hand, smiling.

“My people, I wish you all a Happy Ostara. May you all be blessed with joy, love, fertility and renewed sense of life’s wonders.”

“Majesty,” they chorused, bowing their heads to him. Loki’s smile widened,

“Tonight, as the sun sets on another day in Asgard, we begin the celebrations of Ostara, with a grand feast to welcome our friends and allies from Vanaheim, Alfheim, Nidavellir, Svartálfaheim, Muspelheim and Jötunheim.”

There were soft gasps of alarm as he said the last name, and Loki raised his hand higher for silence. He knew this would be an issue, his advisors had debated and argued with him for days on it. But Loki was determined to have his way.

“This is a time of rebirth, a time of renewal, and a time of new beginnings. Asgard has long been a force to be reckoned with, and remains so. We have no cause to fear our one time enemies. Let us be as wise as we know ourselves to be, and as honourable, as welcome, to all who visit our realm with equal heart.” He covered his chest with his hand, trying to put as much passion as he could into his words, which was not easy given his mellow state these days.

“The Jötnar are no longer our great enemy, and I would not have us dwell so long on the past so as to become petty. Are we not better than that?”

A faint murmur of agreement rippled through the room.

“I would not have you fear during this time. This is a celebration of life, and I will not have it any other way.” Loki called up the Casket of Primal Fire and held it before them all, smirking. For most this was their first sighting of the Casket and instantly Loki could sense everyone was entranced by it. He smiled as he used to when reassuring Jörmungandr that there were no monsters under his bed, using the same tone of voice. 

“I give you my word, you are safe.”

The tension eased away from the people and Loki gently sent the Casket back to where it had come from. “Now, have our guests arrived?”

Sverrir looked over the heads of the people to the door, received a signal and nodded.

“Yes majesty, they have.”

“Good.” Loki sat down on his throne and lifted his chin, “Show them in.”

There was a rap of a staff on the floor and a herald cried,

“The Ambassador of Svartálfaheim, Cadoc, and his aide Neifion.”

The door opened and Ambassador Cadoc strode in. He wore black furs, hood gathered around his shoulders, and his armour shone white gold underneath, with his face painted in dots and swirls of navy and white. His aide wore similar colours, but was more modestly dressed. They strode down the grass path, coming to a halt before Loki’s throne, both bowing deeply.

“Majesty.”

“Ambassador Cadoc.” Loki inclined his head.

“I speak for my master, Lord Malekith, when I extend sincere thanks for this invitation. Too long has our friendship with Asgard been unattended. I am authorised to rectify this failing.”

“You are most welcome to Asgard, and I agree that we should make an attempt to improve our friendship, through celebration, food and wine.”

Ambassador Cadoc bowed deeply again, “Thank you majesty. I offer you a humble gift on behalf of Lord Malekith.”

His aide stepped forward and held up a black wooden box, opening it. Inside was an orb of black marble. Sverrir took the box and brought it up to Loki, who peered at it curiously. He could sense the magic of the Svartálfar coming from it.

“It is a Crochan Orb, majesty. It will allow you to store magical energy inside it… as a kind of reserve should you ever need an extra burst.”

Loki smiled, “I accept it with thanks.” He gestured to the side. “Please.”

The Dark Elves moved to the left and stood at attention, hands resting on sword hilts.

“The Ambassador of Nidavellir, Brokkr of the Clan of Dvalin.”

Loki squeezed Gungnir slightly as he watched the smartly dressed little man stride down the path to him with neat little steps. The dwarf was alone, even better than Loki had hoped. He just needed to get him alone at some point during the five days, and he would be steps closer to Fenrir’s freedom.

Brokkr bowed to Loki, who gave him the same welcome as he had given Cadoc.

“My people ask me to present you with this gift, majesty.” Brokkr offered up what looked like a silver trident. “Kastandi Stafr, the “Throwing Staff”. Made by my hands for you.”

Sverrir brought the trident to Loki, who gave it a cursory look before accepting it.

“My thanks to you and your hard work.” 

Brokkr stood to Loki’s right.

“The Ambassador of Muspelheim, General Sina.”

Sina was a very tall demon, with red and orange skin, with black marks tattooed all over his bare arms. As he approached the throne, Loki could feel the heat emanating from him and made a mental note to keep him and the Jötunheim delegate well apart.

“Our gift is a cloak that will shield you from the hottest lava.”

“It is a beautiful item, you have my thanks.”

Sina bowed to Loki and stood to his left.    

“The Ambassador of Jötunheim, Prince Byleist Laufeyson.”

Loki flexed his hand and whispered a soft word of magic to keep his people calm as Byleist, who was even bigger than his Brother-King, stepped into the Throne Hall, alone. Very brave of him, Loki thought as he felt the tension rise in the hall. Byleist kept his eyes fixed on Loki, who looked straight back, eying him with some interest. This was his other half-brother, his baby brother it could be said. Some baby, he towered over everyone, his steps leaving the grass glittering with frost, his body broad and craggy, bearing the marks of Laufey. And he had horns. Helblindi didn’t have horns, nor had Laufey. Loki was satisfied that they were smaller than his helms. Wearing a loincloth of fur and leather bands around his arms, it was hard not to think of him as a savage. He was wearing a surprising amount of gold adornments too. That was new.  

Byleist bowed to Loki as he reached the steps, his eyes level with Loki’s.

“King Loki. I speak for the Jötnar.”

“Welcome Byleist Laufeyson. Know that you are welcomed here with the same honour and protections afforded to all my guests. It pleases me greatly that you have come.”

Byleist clearly did not believe him, but he nodded his head. His skin colour and his height made him stick out so awkwardly it was understandable that he would not feel at all comfortable. Loki could only hope no one in his realm was stupid enough to cause trouble.

“I bring a small gift, yet one I feel you will appreciate.”

He stretched out his hand, and indeed, the gift looked tiny in his palm. It was a book, bound with silver and leather, encrusted with jewels. Sverrir took it from him, avoiding touching any part of the Jötun’s flesh and brought it to Loki.

“It is a book of magic.” Byleist growled, “Written by my father’s first queen.”

Loki did not react, save that his fingers twitched against the icy metal.

“A very generous gift. I hope you will convey to your Brother-King that it is very much appreciated.”

Byleist took his place next to Cadoc.   

“The Queen of Alfheim, Queen Aetril, the Crown Prince Prince Berach and the Duke Conlaoch and Duchess Bébinn.”

His suitor and his rival. Loki watched as Queen Aetril led her children into the hall, Prince Berach half a step behind her, the Duke, who was half Loki’s age, and Duchess, who was just becoming a maiden, a step further back. They were all in spring colours, the small Duchess in Pale Pink, the Duke in soft blue, the Lord in dark silvery grey, and the Queen herself was in deep red, like the centre of a flower. They all had flowers in their long hair and their wings fluttered as the falling petals brushed past.

Loki had to admit, Queen Aetril looked gorgeous as she smiled up at him.

“Majesty,” she purred, bowing to him.

“Majesty,” Loki replied with a smirk. “You honour me with your attendance. I welcome you and your children to the Festival.”

Aetril smiled, arching an eyebrow at him, “You have our gratitude. Our troubadours are already preparing for the days to come.”

“I can’t wait,” said Loki admiring her a moment longer, then glancing at Berach, and inclining his head in greeting. Berach dipped his head,

“Majesty. We bring you a gift from our own forest.”

Berach twirled his fingers and a small tree appeared before Loki. “An Elder tree, grown from the sacred centre of our Pool Grove. It has been infused with the magical waters of the pool and its flowers and fruit has many properties that you will find beneficial.”

Loki smiled, he had always wanted to have an Elder tree in the gardens of the palace, if only to enjoy the refreshing drink made from its flowers.

“You are most generous, I thank you.”

The Ljósálfar stepped aside. For a final time the herald struck the floor.

“The Crown Princess of Vanaheim, the High Priestess and Grand Healer, Sigyn Njordsdóttir.”

Loki glanced down at his mother, who met his gaze with a hard to read expression. There was soft gasp from the door and Loki’s eyes snapped up.

Sigyn was alone, without a sign of the Svana or Ey anywhere as she strode towards him. What had the court’s attention was her garments, and her hair. She wore a striking purple, but her garment was unlike anything Loki had seen anywhere but Midgard. It was silk, with a short sleeved top that ended above her waist, leaving her stomach bare, and the skirt swept the floor, with a trail of material that went up over her shoulder and draped down almost like a cloak. Her hair was almost as long as it had been before she cut it, caught up in a wreath of lilac roses and then tumbling in curls down her back, and had been painted green streaks. 

As she reached Loki, he could see that her clothes had silver woven into the purple, and her skin was painted with silver and lilac paint, only noticeable as it caught the light. Her honey coloured skin glowed in the light of Throne Room and when she smiled up at him, Loki felt slightly dazed, as if he was seeing her for the first time and falling headlong into love.

“Majesty. I greet thee on behalf of the people of Vanaheim.” Sigyn curtsied to him, the wide scooping neck of her dress catching his attention for a moment. When she lifted her head, she met his gaze and Loki felt like a part of him was screaming at him from a great distance to leap from the throne and devour her _now_!

“Your highness,” he heard himself say, “You are most welcome to Asgard. I am honoured you have come.”

“Of course. I’ve been looking forward to Ostara for a long time.” Sigyn rose from her curtsy, folding her hands in front of her and she smiled at him like she was enjoying the sight of him. As if seeing him was what she had been looking forward to.

“And I look forward to seeing what you have planned for the festival.”

“I have a gift for you.” She was talking to him, rather than for the crowd as she held out a box. Inside were five daggers, ranging in size, with silver and green handles. 

Loki smiled down at her as he thanked her, seeing a flicker of something that looked like disappointment in her eyes as he gestured to the side, directing her to stand next to Byleist. When she had taken her place, Loki rose to his feet.

“I am honoured and joyful to have representatives from six of the other eight realms here with us to celebrate our most beloved of festivals. I welcome you all, my allies and my people, and as the sun sets upon Asgard this day, I say to you let the Ostara Festival begin.”

Loki lifted Gungnir and called upon all his self-control to fill the hall with glittering seiðr, which coalesced into various animals that danced around the room above the heads of the people. Rabbits, hares, deer, cats, dogs, ravens, falcons, fish and dolphins raced around each other until finally all of them collided in a grand burst of colour and petals. The court oohed and aahed and clapped with excitement as the doors and windows were thrown open and the wind carried the petals out into the sky. Loki gave a smirk of satisfaction and extended his hand to his mother.

“Come my most honoured guests,” he called, leading his mother down the steps. “Let us go and share a few drinks before the feast.”

“Oh, that sounds delightful,” said Queen Aetril, taking his arm before he noticed her next to him. Loki did not blink and smiled at her. He offered his mother his other arm, but she said,

“I would like to speak with Prince Berach while the thought occurs to me. If he’ll be gracious enough to escort me?”

“Of course.” Prince Berach extended his arm. Loki glanced at his mother, who looked from him to Sigyn who was sidestepping Brokkr, watching him. Loki fixed a smile and extended his arm,

“Princess, would you do me the honour?”

Sigyn gave a tight smile and took his arm, squeezing it tight as Aetril said to her,

“It really is lovely to see you again dear.”

“And you, your majesty.”

Loki looked between them, from Sigyn, who stood almost as tall as him, to Queen Aetril who was far more petite. Aetril smoothed her hand over his arm and Loki had the strangest sensation that she had the upper hand of the two women as he led them into the specially prepared ante-chamber of the Throne Hall. Frigga departed with a polite word at the door and took the Duke and Duchess with her.

There was a chair for each of the guests to take, designed for their comfort. Byleist’s was large and made of black stone which Loki had spelled to stay ice cold –he could only hope that it was taken the way it was intended. Sina’s was similar, although it was warmer than Byleist’s and made of white marble. Brokkr’s chair was low, to let him crouch, as his kind preferred. Cadoc was given a deep set, wide chair, lined with fine leather. Aetril and Berach’s chairs were made of wood, really more of a lounging couch than a chair. Sigyn’s chair was like the kind she had described in her mother’s manor. Rugged logs bound together and covered with fur, although he had added some silk covered cushions for comfort. And Loki had his golden seat that he had finally gotten around to adjusting for his height. If he had embellished it with his own symbol, what did it matter, he could always change it back.

“You’ve certainly gone to a lot of trouble, your majesty.” Aetril sat down, curling her legs under her and fluttering her wings in delight as she ran a hand over the furniture.

“Indeed,” Cadoc ran a hand over the metal frame of his seat, “Very impressive work.”

“I did not invite you here to demand you act like my people, within reason of course.” Loki sat down as Abjörn started pouring drinks. Byleist was staring at his chair like he was expecting it to move. Sigyn was tapping a finger on the wood of hers, standing behind it. Brokkr curled into his and took his drink.

“You honour us, King Loki.”

It was nice to be called by name, acknowledging him as himself, even if it was from the dwarf that had helped torture his son.

“I simply wish to make you feel welcome.”

“You’ve certainly accomplished that,” Berach murmured, his eyes fixed on Sigyn, who was still standing. By now even Byleist had taken his seat. “Is something wrong Sigyn?”

Sigyn lifted her head as the delegates all looked at her. She gave them a dazzling smile, and said,

“I’m simply admiring the work. My mother taught me how to make such a chair, this one is almost as well made as the ones in her home.”

Loki raised his eyebrows at her, amused at the challenge in her voice as she finally circled the chair and sat down, taking a glass of wine and sipping at it.

“There are some skills that only a lifetime of practise can ensure,” he drawled.

“Ones such as sorcery,” said Cadoc, not wasting time, “And sometimes such effort can culminate in a great creation.”

“Yes… this new Casket of your making,” said Sina, eyes glinting. “There have been rumours of its existence.”

“I would love to know their source, since I have not heard of anyone coming or going within my realm.” Loki smirked, sipping at his wine.

“Ah, some things must be kept secret my dear king,” Aetril chuckled, eyeing him over the rim of her cup. Loki grinned at her,

“Not for long from me.”

Cadoc rested his cup on his knee, “It is a remarkable thing, to have almost all the nine realms stand present in one room… and for a celebration no less.” He narrowed his eyes at Loki, “You’re either very naïve or very daring majesty.”

Loki smirked, caressing his cup with a fingertip. “I think a little bit of both is needed for kingship. If you’re not naïve, you won’t hope, and therefore won’t dare to take risks, which is the death of a ruler’s might.” He sensed Sigyn turn her head to him, but he focused on Cadoc.

“True enough,” said Berach.

“I cannot wait to see what you have in store for us,” said Aetril, looking first at Loki, then at Sigyn, “Will you be performing dear?”

Sigyn nodded, hand tight around her glass. “I have prepared many dances with the troubadours, and I will be partaking in a few of them.”

“Does Vanaheim not miss its Sacred Priestess in times like this?” Brokkr asked, small nimble fingers playing with some sort of metal object from his pocket.

“Our festival is not for a few weeks. I will perform my duties then.”

“It must be lovely to be able to sing and dance to your heart’s content.”

Sigyn’s shoulders tensed further, “I do what I can to please my people.”

“As we all do, dear,” said Aetril, reaching out and patting Sigyn’s arm. Loki watched her hand retract and then he looked up at Sigyn’s face. She was trembling slightly, eyes bright and sharp. When she lifted her head, Loki arched an eyebrow at her, and she squared her shoulders, looked around and focused on Byleist.

“Prince Byleist, how is your realm doing with such a heavy loss?”

Byleist lifted his head and regarded Sigyn carefully, as if seeking treachery in her face. Finally he grunted,

“Well.”

“It is a terrible tragedy to lose a long lived king in such a brutal fashion,” said Aetril.

“It was a regrettable situation all around,” said Loki. “If it could have been avoided…” He did not finish the sentence, only spread his hand for a moment.

“My father reigned too long,” Byleist growled. “The change is not without benefits.”

“Let it not be said the Jötnar are unpractical,” hissed Sina, his voice like steam.

“We are what we must be to survive,” Byleist replied.

“As we all must be,” said Sigyn quietly. Byleist glanced at her, and she smiled at him, holding his gaze.

“How fares mighty Odin?” asked Brokkr, “Is he still lost to us in sleep?”

“He rests,” said Loki.

“So much young blood now stands at the head of the realms. I look forward to finding out what changes you will all bring.” said Aetril with a grin.

“You sound like you’ve found the Nine Realms boring in recent times, majesty,” said Cadoc eyeing her with barely concealed disdain.

“Not at all, but if there is one thing I fear, it is stagnation.”

“Agreed,” said Loki. Sigyn nodded, and Byleist let out a gravelly sound that might have been a noise of agreement. Loki stared at Byleist, finding it strange how unthreatening he seemed in this room. He was just… interesting.

“King Loki,” said Cadoc, sitting up a little, “At the risk of being too forward, I was wondering if you would consider showing us your new Casket. I would very much like to see it.”

“I would as well,” said Brokkr.

“It would be quite a delight,” purred Aetril. She really was not wasting time, was she?

“If he is to show us one, he would have to show us the other. And that would be unkind in the face of Prince Byleist’s presence,” said Sigyn.

“It does not matter to me,” said Byleist dipping his finger into his cup. His drink froze solid around it and he pulled it out, licking it. “We know the Casket of Ancient Winters resides here. King Loki has made a promise of giving us a shard of it within the next half year.”

Loki felt a twinge of alarm. Was it really so short a time? He had forgotten all about it.

“It will help us rebuild what we have lost,” continued Byleist.

“Why not just rebuild yourselves?” asked Sigyn.

Byleist levelled his blood red gaze at her, “We have our reasons.”

Loki glanced at Sigyn, who swallowed, then said, “I’m sure you do.”

“Perhaps later,” Loki said quickly, “I would rather present you with the gifts I have for you.”

“Let it not be said we would turn from such things,” said Berach.

Loki clicked his fingers and Abjörn stepped forward, carrying a large pelt of silvery fur.

“From the alpha male of a great direwolf, for your master, Ambassador Cadoc. It was hunted down by my grandfather, Bor Búrison, almost four thousand years ago.”

Cadoc could not hide his astonishment. “Majesty! This is such a mighty gift.”

Which was exactly why Loki had picked it. He had raided the vaults of Asgard, to see what they had kept. With Abjörn and Frigga’s quiet help, he had selected gifts that were worth more than their obvious value, and considering Odin’s relationship with his father had been overtly worse than Loki’s had ever been with Odin, they had agreed he would not miss the pelt. Yet silver Direwolves had long been extinct, and pelts from the giant males were incredibly rare across the Nine Realms.

Abjörn laid the pelt across Cadoc’s knee, and he ran his hands over it reverently.

To Sina, Loki gave an ornate cauldron that could not be melted. To Brokkr he gave a beautiful jewel that appeared to be a diamond with a heart made of a star. Byleist was given a dagger made of ice that Loki had found near the bottom of the vaults.

“The dagger of Ymir, your ancestor, was he not? It’s lain in our vaults for thousands of years, and yet never melted. I rather think you ought to have it back.”

Byleist was visibly stunned as he reverently held the dagger.

“A piece of the first Frost Giant…” he growled, sliding the tip of his finger along the edge and holding out his finger as red blood oozed up. “Legend says that the return of the dagger is the sign of a new beginning for the Hrímþursar.”

“Then it is a well-chosen gift,” said Aetril. Byleist did not reply, only sucked on his fingertip to stem the blood.

Loki gave Aetril a beautiful mirror, to be used for scrying as much as self-admiration.

Picking something for Sigyn had been difficult. It had to be a gift from a king to a princess, not from a husband to a wife. Sigyn had surprised him with her gift of daggers, since it went against Vanaheim’s principles to arm Asgard’s king. Frigga had been the one to point the gift out, insisting in Loki’s ear that it would not arouse suspicion, but was also a promise to Sigyn. It was the only time they had acknowledged the situation since that breakfast.

Sigyn took the ornate box handed to her, and tilted her head as she saw the symbol engraved into the wood.

“That’s Queen Gudrún’s symbol. She was my paternal great-grandmother.”

“I found it in the vaults and felt it should be returned to you, as Ymir’s dagger is returned to Jötunheim.”

Sigyn opened the box and her eyes widened as she stared at the contents.

“I… this was thought lost!” She drew out a diadem of astonishing beauty. It was in the form of a garland of flowers, not unlike the one she wore, with tiny gemstones detailing the veins on the leaves, the shading in the petals. The flowers went from tiny glimmers to large ones, with intricate silver and gold threads weaving in and out and holding it all together. Despite the metal and gemstones it was made of, it seemed alive, as if the petals were real, and had been plucked from a bush just now.

“The diadem of Skaney!” Aetril gasped, setting down her drink, “I’ve always longed to see it. It was lost before I was born.”

“Taken during the Aesir-Vanir War I should think,” said Sina, tracing the animals engraved on his cauldron.

“No doubt,” said Loki shortly. “I found it and could think of no better gift to give you.”

“My people will rejoice to behold it.” Sigyn’s smile was as dazzling as the diadem itself as she looked at Loki. “Thank you.”

Loki smiled. He had been hesitant about returning what were essentially war trophies to the Jötnar and to the Vanir, but when he had found the tiara he had decided it would probably be a benefit to him, rather than a detriment.

“Truly we are off to a remarkable start,” said Berach, “And with five more nights and four days to go, I cannot wait to see what else we will be witness to.”

Loki gave him a cool smile, “Nor can I.” 


	44. The Ostara Festival: Birth and Bunnies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Ostara Festival Begins, Loki makes an error and Sigyn takes the hit.

Loki had to admit, things had gone well so far. No one was dead, that was the first thing. No one had been insulted, that was the next. The feast had gone well tonight, with the cooks doing their best to accommodate the strange tastes of the guests. His lendmenn, knowing Loki would skin them alive if they behaved otherwise, had been the picture of courtesy to all the diplomats.

The next morning Loki was up before the dawn, and bathed by Abjörn once more.

“Things are going well, Majesty,” Abjörn said, rubbing a cloth over his chest.

“Any problems during the night with our guests?”

“No, not that I was informed. I did a sweep of the guest chambers during the night and all seemed well, I heard nothing odd.”

“And no one gave the Prince of Jötunheim any trouble.”

“Not that I-” Abjörn paused as he shifted around to face Loki, “Majesty, are you all right?”

“Fine, why?”

Abjörn pointed at his own cheek, “You’re… you seem to be…”

Loki brushed at his face, which had not been washed, and found his fingertips coming away wet. He looked at his fingers, realising they must have been tears.

“Huh… strange.” Loki wiped his cheeks with the back of his hand. “Must be the heat…”

Abjörn nodded, his face schooling into a calm mask. Nothing more was said as he was dressed and went to meet his guests at the Palace Foyer.

“Good morning my friends,” he greeted, hand on his heart. They all genuflected to him. “I hope you all slept well.”

“Well enough considering the evil hour we had to wake at.” Cadoc rubbed at his eye, a faint smirk on his lips.

“I promise it will be worthwhile,” Loki swore, looking around as Frigga joined them, a faint smile on her lips, “I know that smile mother, you’ve been in the birthing room.”

“Of course, it is my duty for this day. And I have news.” Frigga rested her hand on Loki’s arm, looking into his face. “You will have to do the ritual twice.”

Byleist was the only one who looked confused. Sigyn clapped her hands together and pressed them to her cheek.

“How wonderful!”

“A blessing,” said Aetril.

Loki nodded, “Excellent.”

Frigga’s smile twitched, as if it had become fixed.

“I do not understand,” Byleist said in a low voice.

Sigyn reached out and touched his gold armband, her purple shawl falling against his bare skin, “On Asgard, Ostara is a celebration of new life, so on the sunrise of the first day, the King of Asgard goes to the Field of Celebration and bathes a child that was born on the sunset last night in the waters of Gioll, the river that separates the living and the dead. The child is then venerated by the people as a symbol of new life and fertility for the rest of the day. But it seems today his majesty will have to bathe two children, as the mother obviously had twins.”

“A boy and a girl,” said Frigga.

“There could be no better omen for this festival,” said Cadoc.

“Come, we should hurry, we must be at the field before the sun appears.”

“Hlin and Fulla are bringing the children just behind us.”

“Then let us go and greet the crowds.” Loki gave his mother his arm, and led the ambassadors out into the still dark city. It was already alive with noise, the sound of people moving through it and out towards the field.                                                                                                                                                                                              

The Field of Celebration was a large open space surrounded on two sides by forest, one side by mountains and the final side by ocean. Along the cliffs that met the water a large stage had been built, made of wood and metal and draped in pastel yellow tapestries and curtains. Large shallow bowls of burning oil gave the stage a warm, inviting glow, drawing in thousands of people from across Asgard. Under torchlight dotted across the field Loki could see adults lifting children up so they could hang homemade streamers and banners on the trees, adding to the ones Abjörn had overseen the placement of.

Near the stage was a raised platform, with thrones for the diplomats and the Royal Family, and a shrine next to that for the babes and parents that were to be honoured during the day. Loki stepped away from the others and went to the stage, while they went to their seats. He glanced out around the field as he waited for the sun to lighten the sky.

His eyes fell on Sigyn, seated between Brokkr and Byleist, and he watched as she leaned towards Byleist and engaged him in conversation, her hand resting on his forearm again. He quirked an eyebrow at the gesture. Why was she touching him so openly?

“Majesty.”

Loki glanced at Sverrir, who gave him a slightly nervous smile, “We’re ready to begin.”

Loki gave a mild smile, “Then let us do so.”

**~*~**

If Sverrir could pick one point in the Ostara Festival he had been anxious about, it was this first ritual. Not that he doubted Loki’s showmanship –although he was a little lacking in a genuine spark these days –but ever since Sverrir had become a father he had always found this first day nerve-wreaking as he watched the new-born babe be displayed for the crowds. And that was when Odin, the man known as the All-Father, who had held his own children enough times to know how to hold a baby, was doing it. This time it was Loki, who had never held a baby in his life, as far as Sverrir knew, who would hold the tiny child in his hands and bathe it in the waters of Gioll. Sverrir had had panic-inducing flashes of Loki holding the baby wrong, or dropping it for days. He knew it was foolish, after all, Loki was good with his hands, but it still made him nervous.

As the sun rose over the horizon, Loki stepped forward and raised his arms, calling for the attention of the people. They gave it with a resounding roar of approval, which made Sverrir smile with pride as he hoisted his son on his hip on the raised stands that had been erected for the nobility. Further down sat his parents, since his father was still in disgrace.

“As the sun rises on this first day,” Loki cried, his voice echoing a little, “We honour the beginnings of life, starting with the very first beginning of us all. Our births set us on a path, where we will have many choices made for us, and have to make many for ourselves. And it all begins from the moment we take our first breath.

“Last night as the sun set, Asgard welcomed not one, but two new lives into this world, and now, as the sun rises once again, we will honour these children, as we honour all children.”

A cheer rose up again as Hlin and Fulla came onto the stage, each girl carrying a baby in their arms. Fulla was confident and beaming as she reached the king, Hlin was hiding behind her hair as usual. Behind them came the parents, the wife being carried on a litter decked in flowers. She seemed rather dazed and Sverrir could imagine she was doing her best to stay awake. Her husband walked beside her, watching his new-borns with anxious eyes.

Loki handed Gungnir off to Abjörn and held out his arms to Hlin, who unwrapped her bundle and allowed Loki to take the naked child out. Sverrir’s heart jumped and he could feel the tension among those around him, holding their breath as they watched Loki lift the baby, a girl, into his arms.

“What is this child’s chosen name?” he asked, settling the baby into his arms.

“Unna Magnúsdóttir,” said the father, Magnus.

Loki nodded and turned to the waiting basin. Sverrir’s heart was hammering against his breast bone, but he had to admit that Loki was doing fine, he hadn’t even woken Unna when he had taken her. Loki shifted her to one arm, dipped the heel of his hand into the water and then slowly lowered Unna into the water. She gave a start, splashing him as her little hands flailed, but Loki did not so much as blink. Sverrir still shuddered at his own reaction to that happening to him the first time, he had jumped and nearly lost his grip on his daughter.

“We bathe this child in the waters of Gioll, with the prayer that she be granted a long and prosperous life. As the water touches her head, let her bear the name Unna Magnúsdóttir with pride and honour.” Loki sprinkled the water over Unna’s head and all she did was coo. Sverrir marvelled at Loki’s calm handling of the child. It seemed his new detachment had some benefits.

Loki sealed his blessing on the girl with a kiss on the forehead and then he did the bit Sverrir had been dreading. He raised his arms and held Unna above his head, so she could feel the sun’s first beams of light on her skin. The crowd roared its approval, and Unna jumped in fright and began to cry. Loki brought her back down and held her close, rocking her slightly as the crowd cheered. Then he passed Unna to Hlin, and took the boy from Fulla.

“What is this child’s chosen name?”

“Éldi Magnússon.”

Loki repeated the same process and the same words as he had for Éldi’s sister. His hands remained sure and careful.

“He certainly has a way with the children,” Ilmr murmured, running her fingers through Rind’s hair as the crowd cheered for Éldi. “Look at the princess.”

Sverrir tore his eyes from Loki to Sigyn. She was staring at the stage with open longing on her face, as if she did not know she could be seen. Sverrir could not tell if she was looking at Loki or the child in his hands, or both.

**~*~**

Sigyn watched as Loki walked to his throne without looking back at the babies and felt her heart sink a little further. Where was the affection? Where was the sadness? Where was any of his usual reactions to children?

“What happens tomorrow?”

Sigyn jumped as Byleist spoke to her.

“I’m sorry?”

“What happens tomorrow in this festival?” The Jötun’s eyes were roaming over the huge crowd, and Sigyn could easily imagine how alone and uneasy he must have felt surrounded by his long standing enemies, breaking meals with his father’s killer. So she smiled at him as kindly as she could as she answered,

“Today is about children, tomorrow is about new love. I believe the Ljósálfar will be performing among other things. There are maypoles and a specially chosen couple who are newly betrothed will receive gifts and the king’s blessing.”

“And the day after?”

“Well, since the festival is so long, that day is for rest, but at night the adults will all gather and celebrate the first consummation of love.”

“You mean sex.” Byleist gave her a look that might have been a derisive quirked eyebrow, only since he possessed none and his face moved very little, it was hard to tell exactly what he was thinking.

“Well, yes. And on that day, I will perform with my troubadours, to excite the crowds.”

“You arouse them.”

“More or less, yes.”

“Yet, if I understand your culture, you cannot take part in the result.”

Sigyn gave an embarrassed smile, her stomach turning into knots. “No. I will retire to bed alone. Only my husband may have me, and I have not got him.”

Byleist hummed and looked away again, eyeing a few guards, “And what of the last day?”

“The festival ends with the rising of the sun, which will symbolise the swelling of a woman’s body. The final beginning is conception. But I believe that there’s an additional day this year for the king’s coronation. Given the… awkward situation at the time, it wasn’t celebrated as it ought to have been.”

Byleist was quiet for a while, watching as a young woman sang a cheerful song, leading the children in simple dance steps.

“My people once celebrated such things,” he uttered quietly, “We celebrated life, we celebrated joy… then it all stopped.”

“The War?”

“No… by the time the war began, we were already losing these rituals and rites. Now we simply exist until we die.”

Sigyn frowned up at him, “Then where is your joy in life?”

Byleist looked down at her, his horns catching the sunlight, “We have none.”

Sigyn swallowed, staring into his blood red eyes, “Would getting the Casket back help you?”

Byleist inhaled slowly, looking away for a moment, “No.”

Sigyn felt like she had been hit in the gut, and she had no idea why. She looked around at Brokkr, who was cackling at something Cadoc said, then at Loki. He was talking with Aetril, who was tapping a fingertip next to Loki’s hand, not quite touching him, but leaning into his space. Sigyn turned her head away, biting her lower lip. She had no reason to worry, Loki was her husband, he would never betray her. Still, it galled her to be stuck away from him while Aetril, beautiful, arousing Aetril, flirted and purred at Loki, who seemed content to indulge her.

Deciding that Byleist was unlikely to talk to her again for a while, and she had no interest in talking to Brokkr, not until Loki told her what he planned to do with the dwarf, Sigyn stood up and crossed the raised platform to the gilded shrine, engaging the new parents in conversation. After all, it never hurt to have the people behind you when you were hoping to become their queen.

**~*~**

Loki was careful to speak to each of his guest for an equal length of time, even Byleist, but was surprised when he came to attend to Sigyn she was not at her place. Frigga touched his arm,

“She’s with the babies, my king. See, over in the shrine.”

So she was, sitting with the new mother, holding one of the infants against her breast as she chatted away to the woman.

“She’s been there for almost an hour,” said Berach, “And has not put the child down.”

“She was always fond of infants, even as a sweet child herself,” said Aetril.

Loki thought she should have been sitting with the delegates, attempting to befriend them. Surely that would be a better move for her plans to prove herself as a princess. She could prove her skills as a mother when they had their own children, and when Fenrir was saved. She was wasting her time cuddling a baby that would be honoured for a day and then forgotten. A stupid action, she ought to be here, doing her duty, not indulging her own longing.  

Abjörn slid up behind Loki, distracting him,

“Majesty, it is almost midday.”

Loki nodded and rose to his feet.

“What are you up to majesty?” Aetril asked, pulling her daughter into her lap and fixing the flowers in her hair.

“Something I think will very much please the children,” Loki replied. Once more he commanded the silence of his people, and, spelling his voice to reach every ear in Asgard, asked that the children be given the small straw baskets that had been sent to every household in Asgard, one for every child. Once they were paying attention again, Loki smiled and spread his arms, “Good children, there is a creature from the land of Midgard come to pay us a visit on this day. For centuries he has left gifts for the children of Midgard during their own Ostara festival, but I was able to persuade him that Asgard’s children were even more worthy of his attention. Am I right in believing this?”

The children cheered, jumping up and down in excitement. Rumours had abound in the last few weeks about just what this surprise was to be, and had sent the children to heights of excitement.

“This kindly creature is known as the Ostara Rabbit, and he has hidden magical, coloured eggs in the surrounding forest. Your task is to follow the Rabbit into the forest, find them all and discover the delightful surprise they carry inside. But be aware, the Ostara Rabbit will not return next year unless every child gets an egg, so make sure you help each other in finding one. Are you ready to begin?”

The children were screaming with excitement, and Loki could hear his guests laughing with delight as Aetril set her daughter down among the other children, the Duke going with her to keep an eye on her.

“Very well then.” Loki inhaled slowly, gathering his power up and focusing on the webs of seiðr covering Asgard. He had to project the image of the Ostara Rabbit across the realm, and deposit the eggs neatly in safe places as the rabbits scurried through the land.

As his seiðr started to build up inside him, Loki turned his face up to the midday sun and cried,

“Benevolent and Great Ostara Rabbit, friend and playmate of all children, let the hunt commence!”

**~*~**

Sigyn gasped as Loki’s skin seemed to take on a preternatural glow for a mere moment before a shadow covered the crowd. Children squealed and Sigyn looked up to see a gigantic rabbit with grey-blue fur, looming over them all in the sky. He was far from the innocent looking creature Sigyn might have expected from anyone other than Loki. This rabbit looked strong, clever and mischievous, just the way Loki looked when he shape-shifted into a rabbit. It pulled at her stomach a little as she watched the rabbit cast shrewd eyes over the children. Then it quirked an ear, seemed to smirk as the children reached up to it and then burst into hundreds of smaller versions of itself.

The small rabbits bounded through the air, diving down to pass by people’s heads, skip around women’s waists, then hurry away into the forest in all directions, leaving trails of golden sparkles behind. The children bolted after the rabbits, screaming with excitement and dragging their parents with them.

Sigyn clapped her hands in delight, laughing as the children’s cries of excitement filled the forest, and felt a tug in her belly as she wished she had a child to run after on such a day. A hand rested on hers and she looked around to see Berach giving her a shrewd look. Sigyn blushed, knowing he was reading her expression with ease.

“Someday,” he promised, brushing his thumb over her fingers.

Sigyn gave him a wobbly smile, then looked away as she heard a sharp intake of breath. Aetril was reaching for Loki, who was panting with effort with his teeth bared. Her stomach dropped and she stood up.

“Loki!”

She reached for him, but Berach’s arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her back.

“Don’t! Let my mother help him. You’ve never dealt with seiðr like this,” he ordered.

“But-”

“Sigyn. Let her help,” Berach commanded. Sigyn bristled at being commanded by anyone like that, but she did not dare interfere as Aetril wrapped her fingers around Loki’s wrist and her eyes unfocused as she reached out to him with her seiðr. To interfere now might cause harm, but it was unbearable to stand there, unable to help her husband with his strange new powers. The now familiar feeling of guilt washed over her. Why had she not tried to help him more? Why had she focused on her own issues and sacrificed his?

Berach’s arm tightened around her waist, a comforting squeeze and Sigyn leaned against him a little without thinking, unable to tear her eyes away from Aetril and Loki. Loki was sweating profusely, his cheeks were flushed, and he was shaking with the strain of controlling his seiðr. Aetril on the other hand was perfectly composed, her only movement being her thumb rubbing over his wrist.

**~*~**

_‘It’s all right Loki, I can help you. Just try to stay calm.’_

Aetril’s voice was cool and calm inside his head, and Loki could feel her seiðr, slow, old and strong slipping inside him and helping him push the seiðr crashing against his self-control back into its proper channels, the ones he had worked on strengthening with meditations every night. Yet, as he and Aetril pressed the seiðr down, he felt a surge of… something. It felt like rage, or joy or ecstasy but as it roared forward, he felt his control on his seiðr slip and bit his lip to contain a scream of pain as it tried to break him apart.

 _‘Easy, easy,’_ Aetril’s voice soothed, _‘Focus, you can restrain it. Use my seiðr as you need it.’_

Loki did as she said. Slowly he felt himself coming back under control and his vision cleared so he could see the children of Asgard running across fields and through forests after the still bounding rabbits. He had managed to hold onto the spell and succeed with his plan.

_‘I’m right here, majesty, I will hold you steady.’_

Loki did not have the capacity to thank her, not until the final child had gained a prize and the rabbits dissipated in a shower of sweet tasting golden sparkles. As the spell came to an end and his seiðr returned to its normal rhythm, Loki sagged and staggered back, shaking. Aetril caught his arm and Sigyn came up to him to grab the other.

“Are you alright?”

Loki let them help him into his throne, falling backwards against it as he tried to catch his breath. He had to pull himself together at once, it was dangerous to seem so weak in front of his guests, who would be looking for any cracks in Asgard’s might. He could feel many eyes on him, and tried to lift his head, knowing he had to right himself. But his heart was pounding in his chest and he grabbed for Sigyn without a thought, wanting her to hold him until he was calm. She had already stepped away,

“What happened?” demanded Cadoc, “What did you do Queen Aetril?” 

As Aetril let out a noise of offence, Loki sensed someone standing before him.

“Majesty.” It was Sigyn and Loki looked up in time to see her kneeling before him, hands pressed together. “Majesty I am so sorry! I forgot myself in the excitement of the festival and did not do as you had asked me. Please forgive me.”

Loki blinked at her, trying to comprehend what she was saying.

“What are you talking about Princess?” asked Cadoc. Sigyn pressed a hand to her heart and bowed her head.

“His majesty asked me to be his anchor when he cast the spell, it’s a very difficult one which can over stretch any conjurer. It’s safer to have a second sorcerer assisting you, to provide a restraint on the seiðr so it may be better controlled.”

“Why did his majesty not wait for you to join him?”

“He said he trusted me to know when to step in. And I failed to do so, which almost cost him dearly.” Sigyn looked up at Loki, tears in her eyes, “I am so sorry Majesty, please forgive me.”

Loki stared at her for a moment, then nodded, panting, “An honest mistake princess, and no harm was done, thanks to Queen Aetril.” Loki looked at Aetril and inclined his head. “Thank you majesty. Know that I will give you whatever you ask as a payment for your quick thinking.”

Sigyn’s head snapped up as Aetril gave a breezy laugh,

“Were I bolder I would demand your hand in marriage as payment!”

Frigga inhaled sharply and Sigyn swayed where she knelt just a little.

“Yet I would much rather have you ask me instead, and for all the right reasons. So I will have to think of something else.” Aetril clapped her hands together and gave Loki a smouldering look. Loki quirked an eyebrow, curious about what she would ask of him in the place of that. He gave a mild smile and looked at Sigyn who was still kneeling at his feet.

“Stand up Princess, I still call you friend,” he ordered, holding out his hand and helping her to rise.

“Thank you your majesty,” said Sigyn, keeping her eyes downcast.

“The mistake aside, that was a mighty spell, King Loki,” said Berach stepping up next to Sigyn. Loki noted he took her hand and wondered at it. Still, he could not let such a chance pass him by to recover,

“I will do whatever I can to make my people happy and keep them safe.”

Berach smirked, “I’m sure you will.”

Loki regarded the Ljósálfar, not able to stand up yet and meet the tall man eye to eye, which he would have liked to do. He felt drained, shaken, and empty as the fear and panic slipped away into a strange nothingness. Looking at Sigyn who was watching him from lowered eyes, he felt none of the desperate need he had felt a moment ago.

“The children are coming back majesty,” Frigga said, having been at his shoulder since he sat down. Loki looked around, only now hearing the chanting and cheering of the children. They were chanting his name, running to him and throwing their hands up to him, showing him their prizes of brightly coloured eggs.

“Loki! Loki! Loki!” they cried, jumping up and down and reaching for him as if they all wanted to hug him.

He should have been overwhelmed, he should have been full of pride and joy and warmth for their beaming faces. But he felt nothing beyond a mild sense of satisfaction. And for the first time he was acutely aware of what he was missing.

Loki looked down at his own hand, the hand that had turned blue at the touch of a Jötun, the hand that had been ripped from him and rebuilt. He saw the way the sunlight bounced off it like polished marble and how his palm was still reddened and torn with slowly reforming calluses. He rubbed at the marks and then looked up at the small children who were looking at him adoringly.

A hand rested on his shoulder and he looked up at Aetril’s face, which had a kind smile on it.

“Humour them majesty, smile and give them what they want. You can do it.”

Loki clenched his hand into a fist and rose to his feet. She was right, he was a consummate liar, and could fake any emotions. So he smiled as warmly as he could and crouched down to clasp the hands of the children, patting their heads and ruffling their hair as they pushed forward to show him their eggs.

Finally, just as his face began to ache from his faux-grin, the children started going back to their mothers and Loki was able to return to his throne. As he did, Duchess Bébinn skipped up onto the dais and held out her own egg.

“Máthair, look what I found.”

“How lovely, what’s inside?” Aetril gathered her daughter into her arms, kissing her cheek as the Duke collapsed into his seat next to his brother, panting.

“Aesir children certainly know how to compete.” he gasped, his wings fluttering in time with his pants. Berach laughed, hooking his arm around his younger brother’s neck and ruffling his hair. It reminded Loki of Thor and he rubbed his chest as he acknowledged the absence of feeling bereft.

He had thought this numbness would fade, but instead it seemed to have only gotten worse, quietly and subtly increasing without him noticing, focused as he had been on self-control and keeping his seiðr under control.

So much for that work and effort.

Sigyn’s hand brushed his and he looked at her. She gave him a small, pained smile and brushed her fingers over his very slightly again. Loki returned the gesture, but he felt nothing as he did so, and he knew he had to fix that.          

He just had no idea how.

**~*~**

Disregarding the loss of control, the Ostara Rabbit was a complete success, aside from some bruises and scraped knees. Huge quantities of food were passed around in the late afternoon, filling hungry bellies before further games, singing and dancing commenced across the realm. As the sun set people started to return to their homes and Loki brought his guests back to the palace for a feast, which went much the way of the night before, with one exception.

The nobility was buzzing about the earlier incident, especially the fact that the Crown Princess had made such an error in judgement. Loki rather thought some people were amused by it, as if it satisfied them to know Sigyn had made such a mistake. He decided to have a talk with his wife after the feast. However, he had to first endure the traditional story telling in the Fire Room for the Children. He knew everyone was expecting him to tell a story and he knew he would not please as he usually did. He had been able to fake a smile, but a story required more emotion than he could muster now. It would ruin everything he had done today, which would be a terrible move for his image as king.

As the children of the nobility and servants gathered in the low-lit room, Loki started listing all the ways he could avoid this or excuse himself. There was no panic, just the absolute certainty that he was going to ruin things if he opened his mouth.

“King Loki?”

Loki’s head snapped to the side as Sigyn approached, the Ey behind her. They always walked in a V-formation, like a flock of geese wherever they went. How had he never noticed? 

Sigyn spoke in a clear, audible voice, “I was hoping I could begin to make amends to you for my terrible mistake by regaling the children with stories with the help of my ladies. You’ve worked so hard for this festival, allow me to provide you with some relaxation.”

Loki pounced on her words at once,

“That sounds wonderful. I’ve always been fond of the tales of Vanaheim.” 

Sigyn gave him a bright smile, bowing slightly to him, “Thank you, majesty.”

Loki reached out and caught her hand, squeezing it lightly and kissing the backs of her fingers, knowing they were being watched. Sigyn blushed and smiled coyly, looking down but leaning towards him. Loki called Abjörn to make the announcement and went to take his comfy couch. His mother sat on one side, Aetril on the other and the children pushed forward to gather around Sigyn and her servants.

Sigyn was in another purple silk dress, this one with a gauzier sash that softened her lines and had copper highlights woven in, which made her look warm. The Ey wore paler purple, and they were all giggling as they whispered to each other or pulled excited faces at the children.

“Come on, come on!” Sigyn called, beckoning them closer, “Gather around, King Loki has kindly given me permission to tell you some stories.”

Loki glanced at his mother and saw her smile as she reclined in the couch next to his. Sigyn spread her arms and gestured for silence, and the excited murmur died away.

“Now, I think you’ve all heard the stories of Asgard, and you’ve heard tales from Vanaheim I’m sure. So why don’t we honour the visit of the Ostara Rabbit by hearing some tales from Midgard? Have you ever heard any of the tales of mortals?”

Loki raised an eyebrow but the excitement of the children cut across any doubts that this was a wise move. Sigyn sat down on the raised chair, and the Ey sat around her, and she really did look like a princess. Sigyn lifted her hands and seiðr began to sparkle around her fingers as she started to speak in a clear voice,

“All Midgardian tales begin with ‘Once Upon A Time…’ and that is how we shall begin this tale. Once Upon A Time in a small village, there was a merchant who had three daughters…”

Loki relaxed back on his couch and let Sigyn’s voice wash over him, watching through hooded eyes as she cast illusions and shapes to amuse the children, first telling a story of a woman who fell in love with a monstrous creature because she could see that he had a good heart. Then she told a story about an Emperor who was tricked into parading naked through his own city because of his own vanity and arrogance. She took her time, bringing them along the tale’s path with gentle words and well place images and sounds.

“I think there is time for one more tale,” Sigyn said quietly as she glanced out the window at the sky. It was getting late, but her softening voice promised a tale that would send the children to sleep, so everyone settled in. A strange solemnness fell over Sigyn as she raised her hand again and instead of a shower of sparkles, she conjured a single, small, dark swallow bird, real and living as every person there. A soft gasp of awe filled the room as Sigyn smiled at the swallow, that stood upon her fingers and dipped its beak to her, and she spoke again, her voice soft,

“High above the city, on a tall column, stood the statue of the Happy Prince. He was gilded all over with thin leaves of fine gold, for eyes he had two bright sapphires, and a large red ruby glowed on his sword-hilt…”

Loki did not know this story, he had known the others, but not this one. As Sigyn told it the swallow climbed over her arm, then it flew to each of the Ey, resting in her hand before moving on. Finally, the story came to a close, the swallow flew into Sigyn’s hands and tucked its head under its wing.

“'You have rightly chosen,' said God, 'for in my garden of Paradise this little bird shall sing for evermore, and in my city of gold the Happy Prince shall praise me.'”

There was a sombre, sleepy silence as Sigyn finished. Loki looked around and found many of the women had tears in their eyes, and the men were stoic and damp eyed. There was no applause, but there was a hushed respect as Sigyn stood up, curtsied to Loki and led her ladies out, the swallow cupped in her hands. As she left the room, her eyes flicked up and met Loki’s for a split second and Loki felt his heart stutter for a second as she smirked and disappeared.

Her exit caused the rest of the court to start to rouse themselves. Parents sleepily picked their children up from the floor and wandered off, Loki watched Ilmr prod Sverrir awake as she gathered up their son and daughter.

“Well,” sighed Frigga softly as Fulla helped her to her feet, “That is certainly one way to make an impression.”

Looking around at the sleepy people, all of whom had that look of natural enchantment upon their faces, Loki couldn’t help but agree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone who was wondering what stories Sigyn was telling: Beauty and the Beast, The Emperor's New Clothes, and The Happy Prince by Oscar Wilde, which I think has a particular resonance with what I'm doing with Loki and Asgard, and is also just incredibly beautiful.


	45. Consequences of Actions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sigyn and Byleist get to know one another, while Loki seems to drift further away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year Everyone, only 10 more chapters before this catches up to what I'm currently writing. I hope you all had a fun holiday and continue to enjoy this story.

Sigyn was grateful for the Aesir’s love of overindulgence at celebrations, which rivalled her own people’s, because it meant that there was no one in the grounds of the palace as she and Ey Þrír, Ey Fimmti and Ey Annarr alternated between sprinting and jogging. The other Ey hated exercising, so they were happy to remain behind, and the Svana were getting used to letting Sigyn go around with only a couple of attendants. Sigyn had reached an uneasy, unspoken truce with the three women, where she did her best not to snap or be otherwise unkind to them when she was in a mood, and they were more careful about not trying to give her commands. As far as Sigyn was concerned, she might have been a brat around them but they had taken advantage of her depression to control her. Forgiveness was needed on both sides.

Her run felt good after a long night of anxiety, worrying if she had made the right decision in taking the blame for Loki’s mistake. Her logic told her she had, but people did not always respond to things logically. Loki was very logical, but his behaviour would leave much doubt about that sometimes. Although what his behaviour could be based on now she wasn’t sure.

After an hour and a half of running and sprinting, they arrived back at the palace and headed for the training area in another part of it.

“You’re getting faster princess!” Ey Annarr panted, as they strolled down the long, golden corridor. “And you’re lasting longer.”

“Your mother would be proud,” said Ey Þrír, swinging her arms.

Sigyn hid a frown that tried to emerge at the mention of her mother. She had not spoken much to her in the past few weeks, or her father, even though they had been in the same room more often than they had in years. It was less to do with bad feelings and more to do with the fact that, really, her parents were little better than strangers to her now. Much like the Svana, Sigyn had realised as she had trained herself up again and made an effort to get out into the city that her parents had let her slip away into the shadows because it had been easier, and only now that things were shifting they finally had a use for her. Sigyn had let herself fall away from the real world, but it would have been nice if her parents had tried to pull her back with loving hands.

“Ouch!”

Consumed with irritated thoughts, Sigyn walked straight into something hard and stumbled back, pain flaring in her nose. She covered her nose, baffled about what she had walked into as she looked up. And paled.

“Prince Byleist!”

Byleist stared down at her without a flicker of emotion. Sigyn winced as she accidentally squeezed her sore nose, and dropped her hand.

“I apologise, I was lost in my head.”

Byleist tilted his head slightly, “Lost in your head?”

“I mean I was distracted by my own thoughts, I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“Hmm. No harm done,” growled the Jötun. He seemed taller today, but without any shadows to hide his face, Sigyn did not see much to fear.

“What are you doing up and about?” she asked with a smile.

“I was not aware I was not allowed to wander.”

Sigyn’s smile fell at once, “Oh, you are, but nothing will happen for a good while. A lot of people will still be asleep, including the king.”

“I see. Then what are you doing?”

“I am exercising –training my body to be stronger and fitter. I used to be very fit, but let it slip away from me, so now I’m being very strict with myself and keeping a good routine to get better.”

Byleist gave no reply to this. Sigyn glanced at her ladies and then said for lack of anything else, “Would you like to join us in the training arena?”

Byleist snorted, “I’d kill you all with one swipe of my arm.”

Sigyn did not doubt that, “You could always come and watch if you don’t want to participate. It would give you something to do.”

Byleist seemed to consider it for a moment, then nodded, “Very well. Lead the way.”

Sigyn smiled again and then led the way down the corridor. She wondered if she should make conversation, but Byleist did not seem so inclined. As they went down one corridor, Byleist stopped and stared down another, inhaling deeply.

“Prince Byleist?” Sigyn called, feeling uneasy as he released the breath like a prayer.

“The Casket of Ancient Winters is down there,” Byleist uttered.

“I… I wouldn’t know,” said Sigyn lamely.

“Do not lie. I can smell it.”

“Well… good for you, but it’ll do no one any good to stand here sniffing it. It’s locked away where no one, Aesir or otherwise can make use of it.”

Byleist looked down at her and Sigyn had a strange image in her head that he would pick her up in one hand and shake her until she was nothing but broken bones.

“It may be locked away, but my people will never stop hoping to reclaim it.”

“Well… take it up with the King. I have nothing to do with it, and my muscles are cooling down, so please let’s go to the training arena.”

That seemed to get his full attention.

“Your muscles cool down?”

Sigyn explained her meaning as she led him to the training arena, which was also empty. Normally Sigyn would have expected Sif to be here, and she smiled to find her absent, even though she knew exactly where she was. It took a moment to find Byleist a chair, but then he fashioned one out of ice for himself and sat down. Sigyn and her ladies stretched and then paired off for hand to hand combat. Sigyn and Ey Annarr faced off and soon they forwent punches for wrestling, Sigyn catching Ey Annarr in a head-lock and trying to pull her down. As they struggled she could feel Byleist watching her intently and wondered what he was thinking. She knew what someone like Fandral would be thinking if he happened upon two women in a struggle –he had never intervened in a fight between her and Sif until it got ugly. But what was Byleist thinking as he watched them?

Was he looking for weaknesses? Was he admiring their bodies? Would he even be able to appreciate a Vanir body given how his species looked? What did a female look like? Or did they not have females –no they must have, since they were able to breed with Vanir… was Byleist watching her thinking that her birth had been a part of the reason his father’s first wife had to die?

“Wah-omph!” Sigyn yelped as Ey Annarr managed to grab her and throw her onto her back and pin her down.

“Victory to me highness,” Ey Annarr laughed. Sigyn grinned and quickly reversed the pin.

“Gloating in victory can mean a loss, Annarr.”

Byleist snorted, “If that were true, the Aesir would have fallen in every war they ever fought.”

“Good point,” Sigyn conceded, throwing him a grin as she helped Annarr up. There was little talk for a while, during which they switched partners and Sigyn struggled to keep the swift little Fimmti down. Finally she gave in and let the faster woman pin her.

“I’m taking a break,” she declared, eying Byleist curiously. The Ey nodded and kept going as Sigyn collapsed into a seat next to Byleist. She leaned back, panting for a moment, and opened her eyes to find Byleist looking down at her. “Is something wrong?”

“Your skin has gained a new sheen,” said Byleist, pointing with one huge finger and Sigyn nearly backed away, but stayed put and patted her collar.

“Oh, yes, I’m sweating. It’s what we do when we exert ourselves.”

Byleist stared at her for a long moment, then uttered, “I was told as a child you and the Aesir sweat blood. It runs red down your bodies and so you need to refill on our blood. As an adult I did not fully believe it, but I always wondered what it would look like.”

“… Huh.” Sigyn hid a grin as she wiped at her neck. “Well, no, we don’t sweat blood –or if we did, I would go to a healer at once.” She peeked up at him and decided to risk it, “I never knew Jötnar had horns.”

Byleist almost preened as he tilted his head, “Only some of us do. It can be many in a family or it can be one of us who has them. I inherited them from my mother.”

“Queen Farbauti.”

“Yes.”

“Is she still alive?”

“Yes, but she is no longer queen. My brother is king since Laufey was killed.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

Byleist huffed, “It was no terrible loss for Jötunheim, and no great loss to me. Laufey was not much of a father… or a man.”

Sigyn huffed a laugh, “Do you know I think that is a trend in royalty? The only good parent-monarch I know of is Queen Aetril.”

“She does seem to enjoy her children,” Byleist muttered. They were quiet for a while, Sigyn rather enjoying the cool air rising off his flesh and brushing against her heated skin. She wondered what it would be like to be pressed against such chillness, what it would be like to embrace Loki in his Jötun form… what it would be like to make love like that. She imagined the sensation of him, cold and hard, pressing inside of her and she shivered, flushing when Byleist looked at her again. She prayed Jötnar could not read thoughts at that moment because she was having a hard time pushing the image away. It had been almost six months since she and Loki had made love and she had missed it intensely. To cover she asked,

“What do you make of the other guests? Cadoc, Sina, and Brokkr?”

“I have not spoken with Sina beyond brief words, we are not… compatible.”

Sigyn inclined her head in understanding. She imagined just being near the fire demon would be uncomfortable for the frost giant. 

“Cadoc seems to dislike Aetril.”

“Ljósálfar and Dökkálfar have long hated each other. They used to share Alfheim as one species, but then Malekith rebelled against Aetril and she forced them out of Alfheim.”

Byleist huffed, “She does not seem the kind of female who could do such a thing.”

“She’s more of a diplomat now than a warrior, but she could cripple me in seconds if I challenged her. And I wouldn’t be surprised if she did the same to you. She’s very powerful.”

“She’s tiny.”

“But deadly,” Sigyn grinned, remembering the diminutive figure knocking her to the ground and pinning her down when she had been studying in Alfheim. “Berach has inherited more of her danger than his father’s, but everyone outside of Alfheim just sees Aetril as a soft, motherly woman and assumes Berach is deadly because of his assassin father.”

“Berach reminds me of a sliver of ice. Deadly if unnoticed.”

Sigyn grinned at the description, “He’s always like that. When Aetril gives him the throne permanently, he’ll be a force to reckon with.”

“Do you think he would overthrow Asgard?”

Sigyn’s smile vanished, “I don’t think he would see a need.”

“Asgard has stood above the rest of us too long. We know King Loki has no intention of keeping his oath to us about the Casket.”

“He still has a few months, and he’s had a lot to do, if he tries to break off a bit of the casket while he is still learning about his new seiðr, it could be very dangerous.”

Byleist looked down at her, blood red eyes narrowed, “And you, princess, do you plan on kneeling to Asgard when you are queen?”

“Vanaheim has a complicated history with Asgard, and there is a chance I will marry King Loki. But only if it benefits my realm.”

“Would it benefit your realm?”

“Some believe it would, others do not. I have not decided yet,” said Sigyn carefully. “But it sounds like you’ve already made up your mind.”

Byleist sat back, looking out over the training arena, “We will wait until the year is over, and we are released from this oath, then we will decide what is to be done.”

Sigyn licked her lips and stood up, looking up at the Frost Giant, “I know King Loki only wishes for peace, and he would see your realm healed and happy if he could. Perhaps you should try for diplomacy before you throw yourselves into another war that might just result in even greater devastation than the last one. Because King Loki may wish for peace, and he may prefer diplomacy, but you’ve already felt the brunt of his fury when his realm is challenged. Don’t think he will be any less ruthless on your whole planet.”

“Will he collapse into the arms of you and the Queen then too?” Byleist smirked. Sigyn clenched her fists, then forced herself to relax.

“Prince Byleist,” she said in a softer voice, giving him a mild smile, “Why are you planning for war when you have better options before you?”

“Better for you.”

“Better for all.”

“Why should I trust a Vanir to give me advice? They love nothing more than to manipulate others into doing their bidding.”

Sigyn quirked an eyebrow at him, knowing who he was talking about. Did Byleist not respect his father’s first wife as much as his brother-king?

“I may be a Vanir, and interested in my people’s safety and prosperity, but I am also an individual and I tell you that I have no interest in war where diplomacy can be more profitable. Tell me Prince Byleist, do you like that Aesir paint all Jötnar as mindless, vicious beasts?”

Byleist stood up with a growl, “You wish to anger me princess?”

“Don’t like that?” Sigyn asked quickly, “Why? Because it is untrue? Are all Jötnar sweet and misunderstood? Or is it the case that every Jötnar has their own desires and wants… every Jötun is an individual.”

Byleist glowered down at her. Sigyn held still, refusing to be intimidated.

“Do not assume you know what I think or want because of the actions of another from my realm,” she said, sensing the Ey drawing closer.

Byleist growled, then huffed a laugh. “Not as stupid as your smiles would indicate, Princess.”

“Why must you be serious to be smart?” Sigyn asked, knowing she had to keep in mind her ‘failure’ from yesterday. 

“On Jötunheim, smiles are not thrown around as they are here. We have little to smile about.”

“Why is that? Is it bitterness? Some sort of inability to repair your world? What keeps the Frost Giants so mired in misery?”

“Our hunger and need is our own!” barked Byleist.

“Hunger? Need? What do you mean?” Sigyn tilted her head, looking into the Frost Giant’s red eyes and trying to see past their colour.

“Do not ask about things you have no business asking about.”

“I’m only asking to know if Vanaheim can help.”

Byleist sneered and loomed over her, “If you wish to help little princess, then you convince King Loki to give us back our Casket.”

He was so close their faces were almost touching, the chill emanating from his skin was enough to make her shiver, so Sigyn could not miss the way his expression tightened and shifted as he mentioned the casket. Something about the look made her lean forward, trying to recognise it.

“Ahem!”

Sigyn looked around with Byleist at Loki, who was staring down at them with a bland expression,

“I hope I’m not interrupting.”

Sigyn curtsied at once, “Not at all majesty. Prince Byleist and I were discussing politics and culture, would you care to join us?”

She urged Loki to say yes, he had to spend time with Byleist eventually, but Loki shook his head,

“Actually, I would like a word with you Princess, if you’re willing.”

Sigyn repressed a sigh and gave Byleist a polite smile, “Excuse me Prince Byleist. I’ll see you later.”

Byleist nodded, eyeing her oddly as the Ey scrambled to follow her. Loki directed her to follow him to the King’s State Chamber.

“Leave your ladies outside if you would,” he said curtly. Sigyn frowned faintly at him, then nodded at the Ey, who stood by the door. Finally she was alone with her husband, but Sigyn stayed by the door as Loki walked to the empty fireplace. The lack of communication between them the past few weeks, and his behaviour since her arrival, detached, aloof, calculating, had made her wary. She missed her Loki and was unsure how to deal with this shadow of him.

“You wanted a word,” she prompted when Loki said nothing for a whole minute.

“Why were you talking with Byleist?”

“He was wandering around on his own, I thought he could use the company. He’s all alone here and he knows what the Aesir think of him. I’d want company if I were him.”

“Well, let us be glad you are not.” Loki turned to face her, face unreadable. “Why did you take the blame for the incident yesterday?”

Sigyn did not answer straight away, instead she paced slowly into the room, watching him, looking for some sort of indication of what he was feeling. Seeing nothing, she folded her arms on the back of a chair and said,

“I thought it would be a better move than leaving you exposed to criticism.”

Loki turned a scolding look on her. “You have made yourself appear foolish.”

Sigyn sighed, rubbing her palms together. “I know.”

“Asgard does not want a fool for a queen.”

Sigyn flinched. “I… I think it may not be as bad as that.”

Loki quirked an eyebrow at her, waiting for her to continue. Sigyn rubbed the back of her hand against her cheek, trying to figure out how to explain herself,

“I’m… trying to climb down the pedestal I was put on, by myself and my parents and culture. I’m trying to reconnect with people in a way I haven’t in a long time. And I think, making an error is a way of doing it.”

“But you committed no error.”

“I feel I did. I’m supposed to be the one who helps you, not Aetril. I saw you struggling and I froze.”

“You didn’t know what to do, more than likely you would have just made it worse if you had interfered.”

Sigyn flinched again, “In either case, I took the blame so that you would not have to, so that you would not appear weak in front of the other diplomats because of your own high-handedness and recklessness.”

“Recklessness? I knew what I was doing,” said Loki, his hand twitching at his side.

“Of course, you always know what you are doing,” said Sigyn wearily, not in the mood to argue with him like this. “By taking the blame I have made a public and embarrassing error before everyone in Asgard and the diplomats of the Nine Realms. But what will matter is how I deal with it, and I intend to make up for it.” She looked up at him, “I will not deny my faults, I will simply try to make up for them.”

Loki sneered, “Please stop this self-pitying act,” he said curtly, “It does not become you to hang your head like a child.”

Sigyn’s felt a flash of rage sear through her, “I’m not trying to be self-pitying. I’m trying to do right by everyone around me, and it isn’t easy.”

“Of course not, being a monarch is never easy.”

“Oh don’t talk as if you’ve sat on the throne for years,” Sigyn snapped.

“I am simply saying what we both know to be true.”

“Well I would rather you thank me for my intervention.”

“Why would I? You’ve made me look dependent on you.”

Sigyn threw her hands up, stepping back before she ended up running at him and hitting him in a fit of temper, “Nothing pleases you any more does it?”

“Don’t be dramatic,” sighed Loki, shaking his head.

“I’m not!” Sigyn’s voice shook with frustration, “Damn you Loki, what do you want from me?”

“I want you to be my queen.”

“But you aren’t telling me anything, not who to appeal to for support, not how you and your new seiðr is doing, you didn’t even tell me about Brokkr being here.”

“Brokkr is my concern, not yours. Appeal to Sverrir if you want an ally, and my seiðr is doing fine.”

“Oh yes, so fine you nearly lost control of it yesterday. What if Aetril hadn’t stepped in? How many of those children would have been hurt? You would have been remembered as the king who murdered Asgard’s children!”

“Enough!” Loki snapped, “Do not speak to me as if I am a fool.”

“I’m speaking to my husband who seems to have lost all touch with reality!”

“Lower your voice,” Loki hissed, advancing on her and making Sigyn jump. “Watch your words you foolish woman, do you want someone to hear you?”

“What did you call me?” Sigyn could feel the fury building like a fire inside her. Loki had never spoken to her like that before, the way Thor or Fandral or even Odin might speak to a woman. Loki straightened up and his face shut down.

“This fighting is pointless,” he said decisively, “We must not be at odds during the Festival. We’re supposed to be showing affection for each other to encourage people to consider our marriage appealing. The council already consider it preferable to Alfheim, because they think you will be much easier to control than Aetril. They believe you are vapid, uninterested in being a queen, and that I will be able to rule Vanaheim as I see fit with them without your interference.”

Sigyn felt like Loki had punched her in the stomach and she collapsed into the chair. Her heartbeat flooded her ears and her eyes stung with tears, but she refused to let them fall,

“Th-then logically the best thing for me to do to encourage them would be to act that way, and give up trying to be a good queen for my people.”

Loki did not answer, he was staring at her without a shred of emotion. It helped her to decide what to say next. Sigyn inhaled, forcing herself to be calm as she looked at him.

“If that’s what they… if that’s what you want… then I… then I don’t want to be queen of Asgard.”

“What? Don’t be ridiculous, you’re going to be my queen.”

“No. I’m going to be Queen of Vanaheim, with or without a husband. And I will be a good queen.” Sigyn rose to her feet, coming close to Loki and looking him straight in the eyes, “I will be Queen of Vanaheim and I will do it the way my people want me to do it. And if you really want me to be your queen, then you will accept that and so will Asgard. I made a mistake protecting you yesterday. I should have just left you to be exposed to your own stupidity, because I’ve too often forgiven and forgotten your actions in a way that lets you think you can brush aside your mistakes. I let you off for letting the Jötnar into the vault, for killing Laufey, for so many things and as a result you have never learned to take real responsibility for your actions.”

Loki’s voice was a cold murmur, “So what will you do? Admit that you lied?”

“No, it would do no good. But I’m going to prove that it was a fluke, a mistake and I will not make another,” Sigyn drew in a long breath before saying, “If I have to, I will overshadow you to prove myself, just like you always complained Thor did. I will dominate this Festival, and make it clear that I am not a weak, wet little girl that anyone can manipulate. And if you get in my way Loki, I will walk right through you.”

“You would defy your husband?”

“For my crown, my people, my realm? Yes. It might hurt me, but I will do it.”

Loki frowned, looking at her as if she were a puzzle that needed figuring out. “I don’t understand why you’re acting like I am at fault.”

“Can you really not see that your aloofness breaks my heart? I don’t know how to help you, and you look at me like you don’t give a damn. And I want to believe that it’s only temporary, but when you won’t even admit that you made a mistake yesterday…” Sigyn spread her hands, “I don’t know what’s best here Loki. All I know is I can’t sacrifice my realm for my husband.”

Loki stared at her, and there was something in his eyes that made her feel like he was screaming at her from a distance. He reached out and cupped her neck, his fingers icy on her neck. Sigyn waited, hoping he would say something that would help.

“You should go and get ready for the day. It’s almost noon.”

That was it.

Sigyn left without another word, arms wrapping around her stomach as she listened to the Ey follow her. She was failing her husband and she had no idea how to reach him. She turned a corner and stopped, propping herself up against a wall as the weight of the conversation fell upon her. She had all but threatened to divorce Loki if she had to for the sake of her people. The idea that she might have to do so turned her stomach, made her want to curl up in a corner and weep, but she did not give in to the inclination. Instead she drew herself up and made her way to her chambers, ignoring her stomach starting to ache. There the Svana and the Ey bathed her.

“No, not that garment.” she said, as she was dried by Ey Fimmti. Svana Þrír pulled her hands away from the waiting clothes.

“Princess, you picked this dress yourself.”

“I know, but I’ve changed my mind. I intended to be seen as calm and composed, demure even to appeal to the Aesir, in the hopes of gaining their interest in having me as their queen. But that was a mistake. Am I not the future queen of Vanaheim? Shouldn’t I stand as that, and nothing else? If they won’t have me as their queen, then that is something I will deal with when it matters. But I have put myself in the spotlight with my actions yesterday, and I intend to make the most of the attention.”

“Princess, is it wise?” asked Svana Ein, folding her hands in front of her. “This is the festival for the Aesir, for the King. It… might appear selfish and childish to try and steal attention.”

“I’m not going to try and steal attention, but I’m not going to be seen as a stupid girl anymore, which I only made worse by my actions yesterday. I thought they were a sound tactic to keep things calm, but in doing so, I have damaged my own reputation. I need them to see me as someone who is worth acknowledging. I need to sh-show them that I’m n-not a fool, that I... I…”

The pain in her stomach was getting worse and she swayed, throwing her arm out and grabbing Ey Fimmti as she stumbled.

“Princess!” Ey Annarr grabbed her other arm and they supported her as she was helped to the nearest chair to sit down. Sigyn gasped for air, curling up in a ball and trying to repress her whimpers of pain.

“What’s wrong?” asked Svana Tveir, crouching down in front of her. Sigyn shook her head, unable to answer. “Should we get the healers?”

Sigyn shook her head, she didn’t want anyone knowing about this. She tried to force air into her lungs and push aside the pain in her stomach.

“Princess, please, don’t be so hard on yourself,” Ey Fyrstr whispered, putting an arm around her shoulders. Sigyn jumped and looked up at Ey Fyrstr, who brushed the back of her hand against Sigyn’s clammy cheek. “Things will be all right, I promise you. You don’t have to fix everything in an instant.”

Sigyn let out a noise like a garbled wheeze and Ey Fyrstr wrapped her arms around her, holding her in a way only Loki ever did. Sigyn hiccupped, her hands resting on Ey Fyrstr’s back awkwardly, but as Ey Fyrstr rubbed her back in slow circles, the pain in her stomach melted away and she burst into tears on Ey Fyrstr’s shoulder. Her world dissolved into the embrace of this woman and if she let go, she might fall apart.

Eventually, she calmed down and sat back, hiccupping as Ey Fyrstr wiped her cheeks with a cool cloth. Ey Fyrstr smiled at her, taking her hand and squeezing it,

“Remember, we’re here for you princess. Don’t feel you have to be strong in front of us. This is just one test, and you’ve not failed it, you’ve made one mistake. It won’t end the universe if you do that.”

“But I h-have to get things r-right or my parents will f-force me into a marriage with Berach and I can’t –I can’t-”

“Shhh,” Ey Þridi’s voice was gentle as she started rubbing Sigyn’s shoulders, “Getting things wrong is how you learn to make them right.”

Sigyn glanced up, looking for the Svana, but they were gone and Ey Fimmti stood by the door, guarding it. Relieved, Sigyn let out a heavy breath,

“I’ve always read Loki through his emotions more than his actions, and now I can’t because he seems to have none, and I don’t know how to reach him, and there’s all these eyes on him and me and Aetril keeps touching him and I-”

“Shhh, shush now,” said Ey Þridi, rubbing her shoulders. “It seems that you need to choose between him or yourself for the moment.”

“And we think you should choose yourself. You did well at home, people are starting to look at you differently now, and that’s important for you. So now, you must keep your focus on yourself, on what you need, even if it means setting him aside,” said Ey Setti

“But he’s my husband. His cares are my cares.”

“But are your cares his at the moment?”

A chill made its way through Sigyn’s stomach, and she barely got the word out,

“No.”

Ey Fyrstr patted her cheek again with the cool cloth, catch a stray tear. Sigyn sniffed,

“But he’s sick –there’s something wrong with him, I need to help him.”

“He has a whole realm of people to help him with this, and you need to give yourself permission to not care for a while, just until you’re safe. You’ve seven months left, your marriage can hang on that long without you throwing yourself away for him. And if he wants you as his queen, he’ll come for you. Make him come to you for once.”

It made sense, it made so much sense, and she knew they were right. She had said as much to Loki earlier. But it hurt to think about it, like she was removing her own organs and throwing them away.

“So what do I do now?”

“You get dressed and you smile and hold your head high. Tomorrow you will perform for the crowds and the ambassadors will see you are bright and confidant and beautiful.”

“Takes more than that to make a monarch.”

“But these people do not decide if you are good enough to be their queen. Our people do. And here you are representing us in a bright and attractive way. That is all you need to do these next few days,” Ey Annarr squeezed her hand.

Sigyn nodded, rubbing her face, “How do you know more about this than me?”

“We’ve sat through your lessons too. You know all of this princess, but your husband is not helping you focus. Let Aetril and others help him, your place in his heart should not be threatened by this.”

“It’s not, I know it’s not,” said Sigyn at once.

“Then start believing it. You don’t have to run around pleasing him constantly if it’s true. He should love you for you, as you deserve to be loved.”

The familiar guilt returned to her stomach and Sigyn threw her arms around Ey Fyrstr, wishing she had been kinder to them over all these years.

“Come along majesty, we need to get you ready.”

Sigyn nodded, letting them get her ready. When she was dressed in her purple garment and had all the flowers and jewels woven into her hair, she led her ladies out to join the other diplomats. Berach greeted her warmly, kissing her hand and holding it for a moment,

“I hope you’re looking forward to what my people have in mind for this festival,” he said, tilting his head at his brother and sister, who were wearing bright costumes and fluttering around above everyone’s heads excitedly.

“Yes, I always loved your people’s arts,” said Sigyn feeling calmer now. “Your mother looks beautiful today.”

Indeed she did, she had dyed her blonde hair into a rich auburn colour, and covered it with little flowers, and her dress accentuated her curves and pale skin. Her wings had even been painted with shimmering flowers. She must have sensed Sigyn’s gaze because she looked straight at her, and smiled in a way that could only be described as seductive. Sigyn felt a mild bolt of heat pass through her belly, but it was cut off by Berach’s sudden squeezing of her fingers.

“Berach… um, my hand.”

Berach glanced down at his hand on hers and let go, “My apologies.”

“Is there something wrong?”

“Just a… slight disagreement between mother and son.”

Sigyn glanced back at Aetril who was laughing with Frigga about something, then she leaned in and said,

“Sit with me today Berach. I’ve not had a chance to talk with you since you were in Vanaheim, I would welcome a friend at my side, _múinteoir_.”

Berach blinked and then gave his sharp-edged smile, “I’d like that, thank you.”

Sigyn smiled at him as Loki arrived to greet them all. Sigyn curtsied to him, but avoided his gaze when he looked at her. Until she knew how to control her feelings she could not bear to look at him and hide her longing for him.

Seven months, she told herself, seven months was not such a long time. What could happen in seven months that had not already happened?


	46. Taking Control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sigyn takes a stand.

Frigga was pleased to watch the Ostara festival unfold so well before her as the Ljósálfar musicians and dancers celebrated young love. It had a new buzz about it this year that definitely showed on every person’s face. Well, except for Loki’s, he was blank faced until someone spoke, at which point he pulled a false smile that Frigga winced at. Her charming boy had lost his ability to lie with ease along with everything else he had given up for this new and dangerous seiðr. Even Thor would be a more convincing host at this stage.

“His majesty doesn’t seem to be enjoying the show,” said Aetril quietly in Frigga’s ear. Frigga looked at Loki, who was staring into space on his throne, looking more like a statue than a man.

“He appreciates your generosity,” said Frigga diplomatically.

“I’m sure he does, poor boy,”

Frigga looked at Aetril coolly, “Is it really appropriate for you to call the man you hope to marry a boy?”

“All men are still boys in their mother’s eyes, are they not? And you look at him like he’s still your little boy. That is all I meant by it.” Aetril sipped at her wine and smiled brightly, “My boy is a man and a wonderful mentor to many, but I still have a spot in my heart which insists that he will always be the little one who came to me looking for kisses for his skinned knees.”

Frigga glanced down at Berach, who was engrossed in a conversation with Sigyn, taking in the knife edge bone structure, clever eyes and razor sharp smile. Frigga could hardly reconcile the man with the boy in her memory from the few times she had met Berach as a child. Yet when she looked at Loki, she acknowledged that spot in her heart that still made her see Loki as the sensitive child who tried to save sick and injured animals he found in the gardens.

“I never thanked you for your help yesterday,” said Frigga quietly, so Loki wouldn’t hear her. “For what you did to help my son.”

“Of course, I’d have done it for anyone, it would have been terrible if things had gone wrong.” Aetril offered her a piece of fruit and Frigga took it. “In truth, I’m glad it happened, it gave me an opportunity to see the King’s new seiðr for myself, to interrogate it if you will.”

“And what did you find?”

“Something that honestly concerns me. Yet I’m reluctant to bring it up now, during the festival, when his coronation is to be celebrated. So I must ask you, does he plan any more grand magical acts?”

“I wouldn’t know. If he has, he has not shared them with me.”

Aetril’s pale eyes scanned her face and the smaller woman raised an eyebrow, “I see. A rift has formed between you. Such a shame, yet I’m sure it will pass. Men will always need their mothers’ love, in the same way they will always crave a father’s pride.”

Frigga was not so sure. After all, Loki was good about holding grudges, and he seemed determined to punish her for Fenrir’s suffering, which she was willing to accept because the guilt she felt was all-encompassing whenever she thought about it. At the memory of the collar being placed in Odin’s hands long before Fenrir was born, Frigga looked at Brokkr and worried about what Loki might have planned for the dwarf, who was watching the dancing elves with open fascination. She had never found Brokkr unlikeable, and hoped he had nothing to do with the unneeded suffering, but that might not matter to Loki. Loki could be vicious about his vengeance –although Frigga had no idea what his behaviour would be like now.

“What did you sense in my son that has you worried?”

Aetril sighed and tilted her head, looking at Loki before answering, “He wasn’t ready for this change. He’s far too young to be able to handle this change, even Odin would be too young for it.”

“He seems to be doing well enough.”

“For now. But it is like a dam in a river during a storm. With enough force the dam could break and the water could flood the land. His mind has taken instinctive measures to protect itself from the assault of so much universal seiðr, but that protection is just as dangerous.”

“What do you mean? Speak plainly.” Frigga grabbed Aetril’s arm in a vice-like grip. The smaller woman sighed,

“This kind of transformation… either by the force of the seiðr… or by the force of the madness it will produce, one way or another it will kill him.”

Frigga felt her blood run cold and she turned her head to look at her son who was watching Sigyn converse with Byleist and Berach as if she hadn’t a care in the world.

“No…” she uttered, grabbing Aetril’s hand desperately, “There must be something that can be done.”

“There might be… but only he can ultimately save himself I believe.”

“Can you help him?”

“Will he accept my help?”

Frigga swallowed, doubt flooding her. Loki hated asking for help.

“I don’t know.”

Aetril sighed and squeezed Frigga’s hand. “Well, perhaps you and I can change his mind. Or…” The Queen looked around Frigga and raised an eyebrow thoughtfully, “Perhaps Sigyn could help us.”

Frigga looked around in time to see Sigyn looking at Loki with obvious worry in her eyes, but it vanished in an instant and she looked back to Berach with her smile back on her face.

“Sigyn?”

“She and the king are childhood friends. Would it not make sense that she might have a better chance to convince him to let us help him? Sometimes a friend is a stronger influence than family.”

Frigga could certainly testify to that regarding Thor and his friends. Once they had settled into their ways there was no changing them, regardless of Frigga’s worries that Thor, for all his sociability and gregarious manner, was locking those four friends in too tight for a future king. Still, she wondered at Sigyn’s ability to help. Surely she had already had private conversations with Loki, and it seemed Loki had not responded as she would have liked.

However, it wouldn’t hurt to have a word with the woman who was apparently her daughter in law. Frigga had kept her peace so far about this illicit marriage, mostly because she had no idea how to approach Loki as he was. However, she knew how to approach Sigyn and had a feeling she would get much further with her.

“I will have a word with her.”

“Oh no, it would be much simpler if we both spoke to her at the same time. Perhaps tonight, once the king has retired for the evening.” Aetril picked up a cup of wine and sipped at it. Frigga sighed and knew her grilling of Sigyn about her marriage was far less important than saving her son who seemed incapable, or unwilling, to help himself.

“Very well, we shall have a word with her tonight, after the feast.”

“Oh, another feast,” Aetril rubbed her stomach and laughed, “I don’t know how you Aesir manage to eat so much. I feel as if I shall never be hungry again after this festival.”

Frigga smiled faintly as the song came to an end and the audience applauded. Cadoc and his aide did not do the same, instead they were conspicuous in their disinterest and disdain. Frigga sighed and looked at Byleist who was inclining his head to Sigyn as she spoke to him. If anyone had told her she would see a Frost Giant at an Ostara Festival and that he would actively be engaging with a Vanir, who shared blood with the Aesir, she would never have believed them. Yet there he sat and he actually smiled in amusement at something Sigyn said along with Berach. It was a marked difference to Cadoc’s stubborn dislike of the Ljósálfar and reminded Frigga of just why the young replaced the old inevitably. The young could move beyond grudges that the old could not. Odin would never have invited a Frost Giant to this Festival, whether he might have wished it or not.

Looking to Loki once more, Frigga saw him watching the trio of his peers with narrowed eyes. If Frigga had to name the expression, she might have picked jealousy, but it was very detached. Still, Frigga supposed, Loki might not have explained to Sigyn that he was a Jötun, or who his father was. So perhaps he simply did not like that Sigyn was conversing with his brother by blood, unaware of who he was. Would Loki have trusted Sigyn with such knowledge? It was hard to say with him. He had never told Thor about his children, despite Odin and Frigga never saying he could not. Loki had made that decision, keeping his shame and misery locked up and cutting Thor off from him for so long after.

Yet a wife was a very different creature to a brother. What did Sigyn know and not know?

Frigga would have to find out. 

**~*~**

Sigyn was getting undressed when there was a knock on her chamber door. She pulled a wrapper dress on quickly and indicated Ey Sétti to open it, hoping it was Loki, but was alarmed to see it was Frigga and Aetril. She dropped into a curtsy at once, feeling shy in her basic dress when they were still in their resplendent gowns.

“Your majesties.”

“We’re sorry to have bothered you so late,” said Frigga with a smile.

“It’s quite all right. I was about to attend to some personal preparations for tomorrow, but they can wait. What can I do for you?” Sigyn gestured to the Ey who instantly moved to fetch wine and cups. “Please sit.”

They sat by the fireplace, Frigga across from Sigyn and Aetril between them. The Ey served the wine and Frigga said,

“Although we know your maids and ladies to be of the utmost trustworthiness, might we speak in private?”

Sigyn nodded and dismissed the Ey and Svana with a nod. When the door was shut after them, Sigyn looked at Frigga once more.

“Majesty?”

“We came to speak with you about the king,” said Frigga, her blue eyes fixing on Sigyn’s face in a way that made Sigyn want to fall on her knees and confess every secret she had ever had.

“The king?” she said flatly, squeezing her hand around her cup to stay in control.

“I’m sure you’ve noticed his… odd behaviour, his altered manner,” said Frigga quietly.

“And we both know you lied about the incident the day before,” said Aetril, her deep voice almost making Sigyn jump.

“I…”

“Oh dear little Sigyn,” Aetril laughed, “We’ve known you since you could walk, and I watched my son half raise you. I know what you look like when you lie. I think you did the right thing if it’s any consolation. It may not have been the best thing for you, but it was the best thing for the king and the festival in that moment.”

“I agree,” said Frigga.

Sigyn unclenched her fingers from around the cup, “I have noticed his behaviour, although I believe it is a mild statement to call it odd. I find it very chilling, if I’m being honest.”

“Chilling?”

Sigyn nodded, inhaling deeply, “The king and I had a conversation this morning, and I was disturbed by his… emotionlessness.”

“You think it’s that bad?”

Sigyn nodded, remembering Loki’s sharp rebuke to her. “We argued, our… intentions and objectives for this festival differ and he called me a foolish woman. His majesty has never spoken to me that way. It was very telling that something is not well with him, but I cannot say what the exact cause is or how to offer assistance.”

Frigga seemed to pale a little and she looked at Aetril who sighed,

“It is as I feared.”

Sigyn looked between them, “What is? Do you know what’s wrong with Lo –with the king?”

“When I helped his majesty stabilise his seiðr, I was able to get a look at it. Have you ever done a reading of personal energy Sigyn?”

“Only as a training exercise, on Berach and my tutor Afi.”

“But you understand the principle and what you can see with it?”

“Yes.”

“Well then I can tell you what I saw when I read the king’s.”

“Go on.”

Aetril began to run the tip of her finger over the rim of her cup. That never boded well.

“As you both know, seiðr is invariably affected by the emotions of the user, which is one of the reasons only those who can learn to harness or control their emotions can use it. Now that’s fine when you’re accessing your own personal seiðr to make use of universal seiðr. But his majesty is not. He is accessing and channelling universal seiðr at all times.”

Sigyn’s stomach dropped, “Oh… oh no.”

Aetril nodded, a stern expression on her face. “His majesty should never have transformed, he’s far too immature for it. The only way he was able to cope was to instinctually build a wall between his mind and his heart. He’s cut his emotions off, and with every passing day he builds the wall stronger and stronger. At the moment there are still a few holes, but they will be gone soon.”

“And then?”

“He will be completely unfeeling and cold, until the day his emotions break down the wall and overwhelm him, either driving him insane, or overloading his seiðr.”

Sigyn set the cup down on the nearest table, feeling sick. It was all she could do to keep her expression blank as she looked at the fire and croak out, “He’s going to die?”

Neither Aetril nor Frigga answered and she forced herself to look at the All-Mother, who had the backs of her fingers pressed against her lips in a silent expression of grief. Sigyn swallowed and said,

“I am so sorry this misery has befallen you my lady.”

Frigga looked at her sharply, and Sigyn wanted to go and sit by her feet, reassure her somehow, because Sigyn would never wish any pain on Queen Frigga’s part. But she did not move. These women were talking to her like she was an equal and it was too confusing to try and be the girl they both had a hand in raising at the same time. Frigga nodded and lowered her hand,

“Aetril believes there may be a way to save him, but he will not accept help from anyone, you know that as well as I do.”

Sigyn nodded, mouth going dry as she tried to think of something to say.

“Do you think you could convince him?” asked Aetril softly, watching her from lowered eyes. Sigyn started to shake her head, then paused as she realised that there might be one way she could convince him. It was a terrifying gamble, one she would never have feared until now, but it might work if there was anything of the real Loki still clinging on inside.

“There might –there might be a way,” she murmured. “Is there any solid idea of how you can help him?”

“I believe he is meditating rather than sleeping. It helps keep his seiðr under control, but he’s not dreaming, which makes other parts of his mind unstable. I would attempt to help him there first, as a short term solution, and see what can be done from there. In my opinion, the best possibility would be to somehow restore him to his original body, but… I doubt that would ever happen. I don’t even know how it could be done.” Aetril sighed as she looked at Frigga who nodded.

“How long do you think he has?”

Sigyn admired that Asgard’s queen did not let her voice wobble even slightly as she spoke.

“I cannot say,” sighed Aetril. “It could be that he manages to hold on for decades, maybe even centuries, but as we saw today, he is no longer the mischievous and clever prince we know. In order for that man to return we must help him find a way to balance his emotions and his seiðr and as of now I do not know the best way to do that.”

Sigyn bit her lip and blinked hard to push back some tears of frustration.

“I think I will simply have to remain on Asgard until this is fixed.”

Sigyn’s head snapped up, “What?”

Aetril gave her a steady look, “As a sorceress myself of high power, I have an obligation, just as you two do to do what is best for the magical world, which encompasses all realms. Thus I believe I shall make my eldest regent with the intent of remaining here in Asgard to help the king in a more direct fashion. With the king’s permission of course,” she added with a nod to Frigga. Frigga returned the gesture,

“I would deeply appreciate such an action. My knowledge of seiðr is not so limited I cannot understand the principles of his newfound power, but Loki will never accept my help or comfort, not with things as they are between us.”

Sigyn looked between them and for a brief moment she felt furious jealousy towards Aetril, but as she looked at the two women it cringed and wilted. Aetril was open in her determination to help Loki, not take advantage of things to seduce him, and Sigyn was being petty to think of that when not only was Loki’s life in danger, but who knew how much damage he could do in the process. Sigyn closed her eyes and pressed her lips together, realising that if Loki was not mature enough to handle this transformation, but was capable of running a realm, then she was hopelessly deficient and perhaps her decision of how to force Loki to accept help was also better for him.

A hand rested on her knee and she looked up to see Aetril smiling gently at her,

“Don’t look so heartsick Sigyn, I have no more desire than you to see Loki perish. I promise you I will do whatever I can to help him… once you convince him to accept my help.”

Sigyn nodded, not trusting her voice. Aetril smiled and took her hand, kissing it and holding it to her chest.

“It will be well, I promise.”

Sigyn swallowed and squeezed Aetril’s hand, wanting to lean into her arms and find comfort in her, but it would be too confusing right now. She settled for saying,

“I think I ought to wait for the festival’s end. I’m sure my… convincing will upset the king, as much as he can be, and I would not like to upset his coronation celebration. I know having a proper coronation would mean everything to him if he were himself.”

Frigga nodded in agreement. “It would be best if we wait until then. Kvasir is set to return to his duties after the Festival, and he has written to me, saying he has been working tirelessly to gather all the knowledge he could about Loki’s seiðr. He ought to be the first one you speak with Aetril.” 

“Of course.”

“In the meantime, we must all hope that nothing happens to disturb the peace or disrupt the festival. So far our own treatment of Byleist as an honoured guest is keeping feelings under control, but tomorrow will be the most inebriated and uninhibited time of the festival,” said Frigga, rubbing her thumb over the back of her hand, the only sign of her unease.

 _‘And I get to be the one who does that,’_ Sigyn thought glumly.

“Well, then the people will just have to be kept so distracted that they wouldn’t notice if Asgard was invaded by the whole of Jötunheim,” Aetril looked at Sigyn and cupped her cheek, leaning in and kissing her mouth, “I’m sure we have nothing to worry about there.”

Sigyn’s cheeks burned a little, but she smiled a little, “I will do my best to please the people of Asgard.”

“Then we have nothing to fear,” said Aetril, thumb brushing her cheek. A strangely tense silence fell as Aetril let go and Frigga stared into the fire. Sigyn swallowed and thought hard for something to say,

“Has there been any word about Thor?”

Frigga looked at her slowly, then nodded, “Loki believes he is doing well, and adapting to Midgard’s culture. Yet… I do not know how much closer he is to returning to us.”

“He’ll find a way. He’s too stubborn to be denied forever,” said Sigyn with absolute certainty.

“Where in Midgard is he?” asked Aetril, “I have traversed the realm many times for my own amusement, I am very familiar with it.”

“I do not know. Loki has never said, although he too has travelled to Midgard many times. He’s very fond of it, although he has complained to me about the Midgardians terrible habit of slaughtering each other many times.”

“And what’s the difference between that and slaughtering another species in droves? The humans think they are alone in the universe, the only ‘others’ to fight against are themselves,” said Aetril with a flick of her head. Sigyn picked up her cup and hid behind it.

“If Thor would only return to us, then Loki would have fewer concerns, with the kingship of Asgard in Thor’s hands, and then Loki could devote more time to his seiðr,” said Frigga with a weary sigh, ignoring Aetril’s comment completely.

“We will set things right, I’m certain of it,” said Aetril pulling a flower from her hair. She whispered softly and the flower shut its petals and receded back into a tiny seed. “We simply have to be strong for the king when he cannot be.”

“I will always be strong for my son,” said Frigga coolly.

“I will be strong for his majesty too,” Sigyn whispered, looking deep into her cup.

“Then the matter is settled.” Aetril rose to her feet. “I must go and speak with Berach. Good night majesty, your highness.”

“Good night your majesty,” said Sigyn, curtsying to her. Frigga nodded as Aetril left, leaving Sigyn alone with Frigga.

“Majesty-?” Sigyn started.

“What have I done that has caused you to lose respect for me?” Frigga asked quietly, eyes fixed on Sigyn’s face.

“I… what?”

“I know about your secret marriage to my son. Loki did not tell you?”

A ball of ice landed in Sigyn’s stomach and her throat seemed to close as she uttered, “No, he did not tell me.”

Frigga nodded, her expression blank and her eyes cold, “I ask you again, what have I done that caused you to lose so much respect for me that you have deceived me for so long?”

Sigyn said nothing. Her mind had gone blank and she could think of nothing to say. The fury and disappointment in Frigga’s voice hurt like a knife in her heart.

“Do your parents know?”

Sigyn shook her head meekly, frustrated with herself. How could she prove herself any sort of strong queen if she was so cowed by a single woman? But this was Frigga, who had shown her more affection than her own mother had more often than not, and Sigyn had always tried to impress her and make her proud.

“I did not think so, unless of course they had you do this to force Asgard’s hand.”

Sigyn’s head snapped up and she found her voice, “No! They know nothing of this and never shall if I have any say. I married Loki because I love him, and he loves me and we want to be together.”

“You truly believe that justifies your actions? Your betrayals of mine and Odin’s trust, your parents’ trust?”

“Why should we care for your trust when you care only for power and control over us?” Sigyn demanded sharply, fed up with feeling guilty. “Why would Loki ever trust you and your husband when you took his new-born out of his arms and chained him down? You let his children leave him, the better to contain the shameful truth that he, a man, was raped by a woman, because Asgard’s pride would be wounded if it ever knew.”

All the colour fled from Frigga’s face as she narrowed her eyes, “You know of this but you cannot know the full truth, you were not there Sigyn.”

“Like hell I wasn’t!” Sigyn snarled, “I was the one who pulled Fenrir from Loki’s body. I was the one to make him see that your disappointment that he gave birth like a woman was nothing compared to the perfection of his ill-gotten, beautiful son. I was the one who sat with Fenrir and nursed him as a wolf bitch whenever I could. I claimed Fenrir as my son and you could not even bear to acknowledge Jörmungandr and Hel as your grandchildren before the realm, could not even bear to keep Jörmungandr with you!”

“He could not bear to remain, the pain was too much for him to stay with us,” said Frigga, still calm in the face of Sigyn’s rising temper, although her eyes were wider now.

“He was five years old! Would you have let Loki or Thor run away after a bad experience at that age? Would you have sent them to another realm to be alone and with only their bitter thoughts for company? You had no right to send him away when Loki was too ill to reason and appeal to him. But maybe it was easier that way for you. You couldn’t hide that Loki was ill, but you could cover the shame you felt he had brought upon you by becoming a victim!”

“Enough! You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I know how Loki felt afterwards! How much your actions hurt him, broke his heart, and yet you acted as if he would get over it.”

“We supported him, we loved him and I nursed him until he was well. You are taking our actions out of context!”

“Have you ever said you were sorry for what you did?” Sigyn demanded, heart pounding in her chest. “If you were at least sorry for what you had done, for what you allowed to happen, he might have trusted you more.”

“I ached for my son’s suffering, Loki broke my heart every day with his misery he wore like a cloak. I love him with all my heart.”

“I know you do, but that doesn’t make you right!” Sigyn cried in frustration, “Norns below, you and your family are all alike! You always find a way to avoid apologising for anything you did, even to each other. You’re as bad as my parents! Have you even apologised to him for keeping his heritage a secret?”

“You know of that?” Frigga asked, startled.

“Of course I do! Loki tells me everything eventually. I am his wife and I have been his confidante since we were children. And I tell him everything about me, no one knows my heart and mind the way he does and I know his. And I know if he were himself he would at least relent his anger towards you, maybe even find some peace if one of you would just say you were sorry for what you did. You’ve done nothing but justify your actions, you’ve never apologised for them.”

“Would you apologise for your secrets?”

“Of course not, but I don’t regret mine and I never will, even if Loki ends up being the death of me. Are you telling me that you, the All-mother of the Nine Realms, do not regret abandoning your grandchildren to cold and empty existences, or failing your son so dramatically that he cannot find it in him to trust you with his heart’s desires anymore?”

Sigyn wished she could sew her mouth shut, before it dug her any deeper that it already had, but she could not make it stop. She could see her words were hurting Frigga, even if she held on to her queenly composure. Sigyn closed her eyes and pushed her anger down. It was unfair to be angry with Frigga.

“I do regret it,” said Frigga. “I told myself, and so did Odin, that it was for the best. If Fenrir was immediately restrained, then there would be nothing to regret. But I never really believed it. Yet Loki seemed to move on, he laughed again, he went on adventures. I thought we would move past this.”

“Loki can’t. He never will until he has his sons back,” said Sigyn quietly. They were both silent for a moment, then Frigga rested her head in her hand.

“It’s as if just when we were on the cusp of true greatness, my family slowly started to disintegrate. I am the only one who has not been affected, and yet I feel helpless to do anything for my husband or my son.”

Sigyn ran her teeth over her lips and sighed, “I do regret the deception. Not to my parents, I don’t care about them beyond making sure they think me capable of ruling alone so I can marry whom I want, but you… I always regretted lying to you. You made me feel like I was a person before I was a princess. I used to look at you and wish I could be the same kind of queen. I always wanted your approval… but I will not let you cower me into regretting loving Loki. He means everything to me, and our memories are what kept me from drinking myself into a stupor every night. I regret that perhaps I was so… attached to him that I neglected my duties elsewhere, but that was my mistake, and I will rectify it.”

Frigga tapped her finger against her cup, regarding Sigyn carefully before she said, “I always thought you were better suited for Loki. I’d like to imagine that if you had been honest from the start, I would have given my support and helped you convince Odin and your parents that you were a better match.”

Sigyn shrugged, “Well, we’ll never know, will we?”

“You never gave us a chance.”

“You all had chances before… to prove you saw us as more than pawns. My parents had more than one chance to prove they actually loved me, rather than forced themselves to have me to keep Vanaheim stable. I know that’s all we are, and in some ways monarchs are helpless to their roles and duties… but there was no need to push so hard. After a while I started to hate Thor because you were all trying to make me love him, and I wanted to spend time with Loki.”

Frigga sighed, “Your feelings don’t excuse what you’ve done. You know how Vanaheim feels about you, how much they venerate you. And you betrayed them.”

Sigyn set down her cup, “Enough, your majesty, I have heard this all before, I have considered it, wallowed in guilt over it, recognised that our actions were not in the best interest of everyone, or even ourselves, but the fact is that we cannot undo what we have done, and I don’t think either of us would, for fear that things would work out exactly as we worried they would if we were honest from the start. I am tired of being reminded of my failings, of being treated like a child who did not understand what she was doing, even Loki now scolds me like an errant child. I ask you, have you scolded Loki too? Made him feel like a small child who has disobeyed his mother? If not perhaps you ought to rather than turning on me alone. It’s done. We knew what we were doing, but we did not care at the time because we gave each other something that meant more to us than anything else, for better or worse.”

She stood up, feeling sick and weary as she looked at Frigga, who stared at her like she was a stranger. It hurt far more than her own mother’s disdainful glances.

“I am going to put things as right as I can. I will find a way to be with Loki openly and rule my realm to the best of my abilities. What are you going to do?”

Frigga gave no reply except to stand, incline her regal head to her and leave. Sigyn tilted her head back and squinted at the ceiling to keep from crying. She needed a thicker skin, if this was to be how things were, with people turning on her and trying to use her for their own gain, then she needed to think for herself and not let their opinions hurt her. Not like this anyway.

“Svana! Ey!” she barked, summoning the women back. “We have work to do.”


	47. Everyone Has an Agenda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aetril and her son scheme, Frigga makes a desperate decision, and Sigyn tries one last time to get Loki to ask for help.

Aetril arrived back at her chambers to find her eldest son pacing in front of the empty grate, her youngest daughter watching him from the seat as she deconstructed her flower crown and whispered magic into the flowers so they closed into buds and shrank into seeds to take home with her and be replanted.

“Máthair! Berach is angry,” Bébinn declared cheerfully as Aetril walked in.

“I can see that iníon,” said Aetril, smoothing her hand over Bébinn’s golden hair. “Yet I’m curious as to why he is so distressed.”

“Deartháir doesn’t want to marry the Princess, it would be like marrying me,” Bébinn said with perfect clarity, smirking when Berach slowed his steps and regarded her coolly.

“Not an inaccurate description,” he drawled, folding his arms behind his back.

“It doesn’t help that you want to be in love with her, Máthair,” Bébinn added, smirking up at Aetril as she delicately picked the seeds into a handkerchief. “You don’t want to share her with Deartháir, you want to have her and the king of Asgard both, because you love them both.”

Aetril smiled and pressed a kiss to the top of her daughter’s head. Bébinn was young, but she was extremely clever and very observant, benefitting from being surrounded by adult siblings, who did not mince words or hide reality from her, yet she had no real cynicism in her.

“Well, what I would like is not necessarily what would be best,” she said looking at Berach. “Sometimes we must do what is best in the interest of Alfheim and the Nine Realms.”

“Do not presume to lecture me Máthair. I am no child to be scolded,” snapped Berach.

Aetril nodded and rested her hand on Bébinn’s head, “Iníon, go and play with your deartháir, I assume he is in the other room.”

“As if Conlaoch would ever be where there’s a fight going on,” sighed Bébinn, sliding off the couch and going into her bedchambers she was sharing with her brother. Aetril waited until she had shut the door before turning to Berach, and linking her fingers against her stomach.

“Now, let us talk.”

Berach sat down across from her and the repressed fire in his eyes reminded her of Princess Sigyn, sitting tense and frustrated as she talked with Aetril and Frigga only minutes ago. The young were so full of fire, even the king, as much as he had been forced to wrestle his emotions into submission.

“I will not pursue this union with the Princess any further,” Berach declared bluntly.

Aetril nodded without speaking for a moment. She had been expecting this declaration for a while, especially since they had arrived in Asgard. She fixed a bit of gathered material at her knee and then looked at him,

“Very well, I can only accept this if you give me an alternative solution that would wield the same results.”

“Which is?”

“A strengthened allegiance with Vanaheim and Asgard that goes beyond words, and is as strong as the physical embodiment of a child born of a marriage.”

Berach inhaled slowly and Aetril sighed, rising to her feet and crossing to her son, sitting next to him and resting a hand on his shoulder,

“I’m sorry this is so difficult for you, I know how you feel for her, but we need this alliance, so I cannot just abandon this option without a replacement. You know that, you’ve ruled at my side long enough to know that.”

Berach nodded shortly, looking away from her, “I know, and perhaps if it were any other woman I would not object, but Sigyn was my first true student, I feel more like a father to her than anything else, and the idea of her being put into my bed turns my stomach. And I…” Berach turned to Aetril and she smiled encouragingly when he faltered, reminded of when he was a boy and still needed her comfort. “Máthair I despise the way she looks at me now. She tries to hide it, but she is afraid of me, afraid that I might be the one to take her as a wife. Even if you got me to go through the ceremony, I will never be able to bed her, so it would be a pointless thing, if what you seek is a child to seal things.”

Aetril nodded, leaning in and encircling his torso with her arm, resting her head on his shoulder, “Then, you must help me devise a better solution. You know Sigyn better than I, as much as I have enjoyed her company, and admired and desired her, you helped raise her, while I raised your siblings. So think, how can we tie both Asgard and Vanaheim to us in a mutually beneficial alliance?”

Berach sighed and sat back, looking thoughtful. Aetril smiled and kissed his forehead,

“Think on it, mo mhac. We can make a plan.”

Berach looked at her ruefully, “Can I tell the Princess she need not fear me anymore? I would like my darling student back.”

Aetril sighed, “If we can think of a plan before we return home, you can tell her, but I would prefer we do not rescind the offer of marriage to Vanaheim until we have a new plan in place. It will slow any plans of Asgard to wed Loki and Sigyn, until we can stand in position.”

Berach nodded, sighing softly. Aetril squeezed his hand, “I promise, you can repair your relationship soon. It is not lost.”

“Only if we can think of a better alternative.”

Aetril sighed and sat back next to her eldest, reaching up and brushing the back of her finger over his cheek. “You have so much of your father in you.”

Berach smiled faintly, “I remember how you would argue about things. Neither of you ever raised your voices.”

Aetril chuckled, “We kept our passion for more pleasurable situations. Besides, your father and I would have done each other terrible harm if we had lost our tempers when we fought.”

Berach laughed softly, “Oh… would any fool in this realm imagine you could do damage to anyone?”

“Let them underestimate us, it is to our benefit.” Aetril tapped her son’s knee and sat up, “Well, I am going to sleep, I foresee a riveting display of beauty and sensuality from the Princess tomorrow and I intend to be rested to enjoy it.”

Bearch huffed as she stood up, “Máthair, if only you could marry both Sigyn and Loki together. We both know they’ve felt desire for you, and you them. And given the looks I’ve noticed they throw each other at this Feast, they definitely have a deep relationship. Would it not be marvellous if you could all marry and bed down together? I could be happy with those two as family by marriage.”

Aetril quirked an eyebrow thoughtfully, “My dear boy, that might be something worth considering.”

Berach leaned his head back, grinning at her upside down. Aetril laughed as she went to bed.

**~*~**

Loki’s antechamber was dark, save for the firelight in the grate. It made him think of Midgard’s hellish colours and imagery, actually plunging him into the shadows that many had once imagined he shrouded himself in. He sat by the fire in his favourite chair, a cup of wine dangling from his hand as he stared into the flames.

His mind kept replaying the memory of Sigyn’s face when they had spoken earlier, of how she had laughed and flirted with Byleist, Berach and even Brokkr and Cadoc. He had not liked any of it. Loki’s hope for that conversation had been to bring them back on the same path, to soothe any issues between them. But Sigyn had been irrational, and angry with him, shouting about how she would pick her realm over him. He was her husband, how could she say such a thing? He would never say such a thing to her. Being king gave him a chance to win her hand from her realm and parents, if it hadn’t he would have found a way around it. Why couldn’t she understand that?

Or perhaps the question was, why couldn’t he read her anymore? Her behaviour confused him, yet as he sat in the dark, brooding on the fight he started to wonder if maybe it was not her behaviour, but his own reaction that was causing the problem. Sigyn had mentioned how much his aloofness was hurting her, but he did not believe himself to be acting aloof. Yet had he not admitted weeks ago that there was something wrong with his behaviour? That his reactions and feelings were muted and something was undeniably wrong? Had Kvasir’s research not warned him that the hearsay of this new magic promised only death and madness for him?

Loki sighed and rubbed at his forehead. He felt tired, bone-weary in every corner of his body and he closed his eyes, just for a moment, so he could gather his thoughts.

He no longer missed Thor.

He no longer cared about Odin’s approval.

When Sigyn had said she would not be his queen, he had felt no real panic of loss or love, but simply bafflement, because her words had made no sense. Of course she would be his queen. The idea that she would not be simply made no sense to him. It was ridiculous, of course she would be his queen, how could she be his wife if she were not his queen?

Loki frowned, why wasn’t he alarmed? Sigyn would never have made a threat like that if she had not meant it. If she wouldn’t be his queen, she might not be his wife… was she threatening to divorce him?

“She cannot leave me, she’s my wife,” Loki muttered to himself, “We’re bound by law, by magic, by… by love.”

He opened his eyes and a sense of unease began to buzz at the back of his mind as he felt no emotional agreement with that singular word.

**~*~**

Sigyn lay perfectly still on her front as she lay under the sun on her balcony, letting the heat and light of the great orb encourage the sweet smelling paste that now covered her skin in an intricate and beautiful pattern to stain her skin. The soft breeze felt kind on her skin as she lay there, restless, angry and miserable. Below her the city was quiet, with the occasional sound of playing children filling the air, but otherwise the city slept and would continue to sleep until the sun set, when the children would be put to bed, and the adults would return to the field to watch Sigyn perform the Consummation Celebration. Sigyn refused to feel nervous, she had done these kinds of rituals hundreds of times on Vanaheim, it was just dancing and singing, two things she had been trained for all her life and had actually maintained. The only difference tonight would be she was performing for Asgard, and there was a fine line between seductive and whore in the Aesir mind. Sigyn could only hope her ‘exoticism’ as a Vanir would make them less judgemental. Freyja had performed this role of Goddess of Sex many times over the years and she was wholly adored for it.

She sighed and turned her head, watching as the Ey fixed each other’s hair, and the Svana laid out the costumes. Sigyn smiled as she saw her own costume for the opening performance, it had been inspired by the Midgardian ‘Dance of the Seven Veils’. When she had begun her planning for tonight, she had dimly imagined that when she finished Loki, overcome by his own desire would throw himself on the stage and kiss her like a dying man in front of everyone. Then everyone would see how much he loved her and she loved him and they would all give their blessing to their marriage and everything would be perfect.

Instead she was left worrying she might not have a marriage by the end of this festival. Sigyn shivered and told herself it was a cloud passing across the sun causing a chill.

She shouldn’t have fought with Loki, he wasn’t well, and she certainly should not have conspired with his mother and Aetril on how to manipulate him into accepting their help. Yet, she could not deny that he needed help, and would never accept it willingly, he was too stubborn and prideful to do that, and he hated showing weakness. It was a key difference between himself and Thor, Thor could express his emotions and Loki could not, not easily. It took coaxing and cajoling and eventually he might let a smile out, but Loki viewed his emotions as a weakness. He felt people judged him if he was too happy or too angry, unlike Thor who made everyone feel jolly when he grinned or righteous when he raged. There was some truth to it, but Sigyn had never been sure if it was the man or those around him that caused it.

Sigyn scratched at the paste on her hand, it was beginning to crack and peel, the skin underneath stained a pinkish red which would darken further before the performance. What was she going to do?

**~*~**

It was like another world in Odin’s chambers sometimes. No noise from the outside could come in, the golden web of protective magic shimmered against the shadows of the torchlight. Frigga found it comforting when she sat with her husband, listening to the sound of his breathing, reassured when she touched his chest and felt his heartbeat. However, tonight she felt no comfort, only anger, grief and regret.

“I should not have been harsh with her,” she whispered, her voice echoing slightly in the room. Only Odin would hear her words, and she knew in her heart he was far from her still. “I should not have spoken in anger. I had a chance to do something right with Loki, by blessing his marriage with all my heart and embracing his wife as my daughter. Instead I scolded her like a child, and she has turned from me.”

She could still see Sigyn’s furious glare as she ranted about Fenrir’s birth and suffering, condemning Frigga for her lack of action. She could still see the heartbreak in her face when Frigga condemned her.

“We have made terrible mistakes my love,” she sighed, sitting on the bed with her back to Odin, her legs drawn up slightly, laced fingers tucked under her chin. “We were tricked, Brokkr lied to us about his fealty and kindness when he gave us that collar. We have condemned our own grandson to a lifetime of suffering because we were blinded by spells and our own fears for Loki’s reputation and sanity. We let Jörmungandr run away, I let him run from his father when I should have encouraged him to stay. Why did I let that happen? Why did you?”

She stood up and began to pace around the bed, “Our son is slipping away and he has no reason to trust that we will save him, that I would save him. I could have made an effort to make peace with the woman he loves, to begin to heal the fractures between us all, and instead I scolded her as if the greatest crime was my injured pride. I don’t know why I spoke like that, I had intended to say I understood, that I supported her feelings, even if I could not support what they had done openly. But my hurt and my anger over their actions just swallowed me up and I was cruel.”

She sighed and rubbed her hands together, as if to ward away a chill, “I must make things right, I must at least begin to make amends for my actions, or lack of, that have caused so much hurt. I refuse to be so prideful that I cannot accept my own failings… as you do husband. Yet I am… what can I do to begin?”

Frigga sighed and looked down at her hands, and her eyes fell on her bracelet. Dwarven made, it was a thing of skill and beauty. As she stared at it Frigga realised that there was one thing she could do to aid her son, and begin to make amends.

Frigga returned to her own chambers and had Fulla help her dress and style her hair, putting on a dress that left her shoulders bare, and her hair softly falling around her neck. She put sweet scents on her skin and then had Fulla bring her a small box of threads, which shone gold with seiðr.

“My Lady, may I ask what you hope to do with these?” Fulla asked uneasily, her big green eyes meeting Frigga’s with the fierce confidence that only came from someone who knew they were respected by their mistress for their honesty, among many other qualities.

“I intend to right a wrong. If I do not get it with sweetness, I shall remind all that I am not the patron of marriage and motherhood because I like pretty dresses and sweet children’s laughter. There is death as well as life in them, and I fear neither. I have let myself do the same as much of Asgard has, sink into my own complacency and I shall redeem myself. A knife Fulla, I shall need a knife.”

Fulla said nothing, only nodded grimly and retrieved the object.

“Do you need me to come with you my lady?”

“No, I shall do this alone,” said Frigga, running the tip of her finger against the edge of the knife. She then concealed it on her body and nodded to Fulla, who curtsied low to her.

That is how Frigga found herself knocking on the doors of one of Asgard’s guests and smiling her sweetest smile.

“Queen Frigga!” Brokkr gasped, gawping at her.

“Dear Brokkr, I had hoped that we could speak. May I come in?” Frigga asked, tilting her head to the side slightly. Brokkr hesitated a moment, then nodded, looking confused. Frigga entered the room and inhaled slowly as she squeezed her fingers around the box in her hand and told herself she would do this for her son… and for her grandson.

**~*~**

Byleist had no way to conceal himself from Heimdall, but he had to report to his King-Brother on his findings. So he removed from his pack an orb of glassy-ice. He rolled it in his palm and it lit up with a rainbow of colour.

“My liege?”

 _“Brother, how has Asgard been? Have they honoured you?”_ came the voice of Helblindi from the orb.

“They have shown me the highest courtesy, especially the Vanir Princess. As for the king…”

_“Yes?”_

“I am… not sure quite what to make of him.”

_“Byleist I sent you for the precise reason that you are the most skilled in taking the measure of all beings.”_

“Yes, but he is unlike anything I have ever encountered. He does not stink of meat the way the Aesir do, or of green things like the Ljósálfar. There is a scent of winter upon him, but there is also a desert under his skin. His mind is like wind and his heart like rock. I cannot take a measure of him.”

Helblindi let out a hissing growl, like creaking rock, _“His new magic must have made him more unusual than before.”_

“I have considered that, but I cannot be definitive either way. However, I have some news that I think you will find very interesting.”

_“Go on.”_

Byleist considered his choice of words, settling for, “I smell lightning in the air.”

Helblindi did not reply at once, _“Are you sure?”_

“Yes, but I have not found the source. I have smelled it lingering on one of the king’s lendmenn, but he is not the source. Someone close to him is.”

_“Asgard’s law is known.”_

“Yes, yet I know that scent.”

_“Then find the source.”_

“Yes my liege.”

The orb went dark and Byleist put it away with a heavy sigh. His brother spoke as if he had not tried hard enough, but Byleist had, he had been examining the king since he had arrived, sniffing and peering at the smaller man, trying to see inside him the way he did for every man and woman, to take the measure of them and know them, as all hrímþursarseiðrmaðr could. Yet Byleist had no idea if Helblindi’s suspicions about the king were true, and if they were, just what was his elder brother scheming to do about it?

Byleist had little interest in knowing if it were true, he was done with Laufey’s legacy, done with his unending obsessions. All that mattered to Byleist was returning the Casket of Ancient Winters to Jötunheim. He had to admit that he was more curious about the fact that there was the unmistakable scent of a Storm Giant in Asgard, but he had not seen it yet. Why that Jötun was allowed to enter Asgard and roam freely was something he dearly wanted to know.

**~*~**

Sigyn could not wait anymore, she had to go back and talk to Loki. She had planned on waiting for the festival to be over, she had intended to put him in a terrible position of choosing his stubborn pride, or her as his wife, to force him to take Aetril’s help, but she couldn’t. She could never be that cruel to her husband, not to force him to accept help.

“I need to speak with the king,” she said once the paste had been scraped from her skin, leaving a beautiful pattern behind.

“Now?” asked Svana Þrír anxiously.

“Yes, I must do it now, I won’t be long. Just keep working, I’ll be back soon.” She pulled on a simple wrapper dress that hid her marks from curious eyes and set off to Loki’s bedchambers. The conveyor made her stomach turn sickeningly as it lifted her up. She did not blink at the guards standing outside, only nodded to them before knocking on the door.

“Who is it?” Loki called in a dull voice.

“It’s Princess Sigyn your majesty. I need to talk to you,” she replied. There was a moment when she thought he would refuse her then the door opened just enough to let her in. She slipped into near complete darkness and shut the door behind her. The room was shrouded in unnatural darkness, the only light source coming from the fireplace, where a huge fire crackled and sparked, suffusing the room with heat. “Loki?”

“Here,” he replied, his voice floating over from by the fire. Sigyn approached slowly, unnerved by the darkness. It was as if Loki was hiding in the shadows, as he had often complained feeling when Thor had been around. He sat in his high-backed armchair and was staring blankly into the fire. As Sigyn reached him, he looked up at her, expressionless. “Sigyn.”

Sigyn bit her lip, staring down at him and trying to think of what she wanted to say, what she wanted to ask. Instead she surged forward and cupped his face, kissing him hungrily and climbing into his lap. She needed to touch him, she need to taste him, remind herself that he was still her Loki, even if he had been changed. Loki let out a soft noise and rested a hand on her thigh, the other resting on her back. Yet the kiss was very one-sided, he only responded to her movements, made no moves to deepen or change it, he simply followed her lead, like his heart wasn’t in it. Sigyn felt like her throat had closed and she pulled away struggling to catch her breath. Loki stared at her, eyes moving over her face and a furrow coming between his eyebrows, as if she were a text he could not read.

“You have been very inconsistent lately Sigyn,” he said quietly. “One moment you deny me, the next you try to devour me. You make no sense.”

Sigyn swallowed and put her arm around his neck, sitting back on his thighs and struggling to ask for what she needed.

“T-tell me you love me. And mean it.”

Loki opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Sigyn could see a strain, a struggle in his eyes as he tried to say it. Finally he sighed,

“I can’t.”

Sigyn buried her face in his neck to hide her reaction as her heart actually began to ache inside her chest.

“Loki, Loki, my Loki.”

“I’m sure it’s just a passing problem. I’ll fix it.”

“You need help,” Sigyn whimpered against his skin.

“I do not. I can fix this myself.”

Sigyn sat back again, looking him straight in the eyes, “You don’t even know what’s wrong with you.”

“And you do?”

She nodded, “Aetril read your magic when she helped you. She said you weren’t ready for this transition, that you’ve had to but a block between your head and your heart to keep yourself stable, and your meditations are making it worse.”

“That’s ridiculous. You cannot cut your mind and heart from one another.”

“No… you can’t. But you can try, and it will eventually kill you.”

Loki’s eyes flickered with a shadow, and he shook his head. “That’s pure speculation. Aetril has no idea what this is, no one does.”

“If no one knows anything about it, you cannot keep it to yourself, you need to let other seiðr users study it. And you know something is wrong, you must know. You cannot truly think that you shouldn’t be able to tell your wife you love her.”

“I know it as a fact, is that not enough?”

“You knew Odin loved you as a fact but it wasn’t enough,” Sigyn snapped. Loki’s lips thinned and he pushed her off him.

“This is my burden.”

“And your burdens are mine, we made that vow when we decided we wanted to marry. So, tell me Loki, do you want to spend the rest of your life without emotions? Without love for me?”

Loki regarded her coolly, “You seemed willing to stop loving me earlier.”

“I never said I would stop loving you, I said I would not be your queen if you didn’t-” Sigyn sighed and went to him, sitting in his lap despite his twitch of displeasure. “Loki, look at me.”

He did, his eyes boring into hers. Sigyn reached up and cupped his face, leaning in and resting her forehead against his, “Loki, please, listen to me. You know me, you know I only want what will be best for you. You need to let someone help you. Aetril is willing to do that, she wants to stay here and help you. Please, if you won’t accept it for yourself, accept it for me. I don’t want to lose you.”

Loki did not reply for a moment, he just looked up at her, and Sigyn pressed her hands to his chest, willing him to heed her. A knock on the door made them both jump, and Sigyn reluctantly stood up, seething because she had been sure Loki was starting to hear her.

“Your majesty,” a small voice called through the door.

“Hlin?”

“Your majesty, My Lady the King’s Mother asks you to come to Brokkr’s chambers, she says it’s urgent.”

Sigyn gasped and Loki looked at her sharply,

“Do you know anything about this?”

“N-no. I mean, we argued, she was angry with me for our marriage and I told her she was the worse of the two because of Fenrir… you don’t think she went to punish Brokkr, do you?”

Loki did not reply, only summoned Gungnir and strode out the door. Sigyn ran after him in a panic.

“Loki, I swear-”

“Enough. It would seem you’ve all be sneaking around behind my back,” said Loki shortly, “I will deal with you later.”

Deal with her? What did he mean by that? Sigyn grit her teeth and followed him to Brokkr’s chambers. Loki shoved the door open and strode in, slamming it shut behind him.

“Mother what is –what have you done?”

Sigyn gaped at the scene before her. Frigga was panting heavily as she stood up, her dress ripped and bloodied and a needle and thread hanging from her hand, which were drenched in more blood. On the floor lay a quivering, whimpering Brokkr. As she looked at him, Sigyn felt she might be ill. His lips had been sewn shut. Frigga crackled with power as she stood before them, her eyes bright and focused as Loki stared at the dwarf in disbelief.

“Mother… what is the meaning of this?”

“Justice my son, justice and protection for my family.”

Sigyn could not stop herself from rushing to Brokkr’s side and touching his shoulder. His eyes rolled like a frightened animal’s and as he recognised her, he let out a desperate scream from behind his sewn lips, pawing at her and covering her arms in blood. Sigyn held him down, looking up at the mother and son for help. 

“Have you lost your mind?” demanded Loki, grabbing the needle and thread from his mother.

“No, I have not.”

“You’ve sewn his mouth shut, and I need him to speak! He’s the only one who knows about Fenrir’s collar.”

Frigga shook her head, “I have already gained such information from him, and in any case, I have not finished my spell.”

“Spell?”

“Once I complete the spell, the threads will vanish and he will be able to speak again. I have simply prevented him from revealing the truth of Fenrir to anyone other than myself, to protect him and you when you free him.”

“You –free him?”

Frigga nodded, extending her other hand, “Here, the key to Fenrir’s collar. You need it to remove it.”

Loki held out his hand and Frigga dropped a tiny key into his palm. Loki stared at the key as Frigga turned her gaze to Sigyn and gave her a bitter smile,

“Sigyn forced me to realise I had failed you both. She told me about Fenrir’s birth, and I know now I have wronged you and Fenrir in a way that can never be forgiven. But I am sorry Loki, I am so sorry for what has happened, and I will do whatever I must to make things right.”

“You should have come to me,” said Loki coldly, “I had planned to get the information from him myself. But it would seem you’re all about the conspiring behind my back today mother.”

Frigga’s determination faltered and she looked at Sigyn again. Sigyn shrugged helplessly, awkwardly petting Brokkr’s bald head to calm him down.

“Loki, we only discussed how best to approach you about something that was very important, because we care about you, we want you well.”

“I am not sick!”

“Can we deal with the bleeding dwarf please?” Sigyn begged, as Brokkr started to panic more and more in her arms. She hated the man for his making of the collar, but he did not deserve this.

Frigga and Loki stared at each other, then Loki gave a tiny nod. Frigga bent down and grabbed Brokkr’s face, earning a muffled scream of panic from him as she pressed her fingers against the stitches. Frigga whispered a galðr, a spell of deep and secret magic that reminded Sigyn that Frigga might have appeared a gentle soul, but she was a supreme wielder of magic. As she finished the threads seeped into Brokkr’s skin and the holes made by the needle sealed themselves up. Only the blood on their hands was left as evidence. Shaking hands touched his face as Sigyn helped Brokkr sit up. Loki’s shadow fell over them as he approached the dwarf.

“Now, what did he tell you?”

“He can tell you himself now,” said Frigga curtly as she wiped her hands clean.

“Give him a moment!” Sigyn snapped, calling up a cup of water for the dwarf to clean his mouth out with, grimacing as he hacked up a glob of blood. Loki was immovable as he watched, the key turning over in his palm. “Brokkr, Brokkr listen to me,” Sigyn said calmly, “You just need to tell us the truth and this will all be over.”

“I already told the queen!” Brokkr coughed, white with fright as he looked up at Loki. Sigyn petted his shoulder,

“And now you will tell the king. Just tell us who asked you to make the collar and why you did it and how do we undo its curse. Take your time and tell us the truth.”

“I shall know if you lie,” Loki uttered. Sigyn hated him in that moment for forcing her to play the role of comforter to a man she had hated for centuries.

“A-Alright! Alright!” Brokkr leaned towards Sigyn as he started to speak, forcing Sigyn to support him, “It was the third year of Odin’s reign, and I was at home, forging some standard swords for his army, when this woman came in.”

“What was she? Jötun? Ljósálfar?” asked Loki.

“No, Aesir? Vanir? One of the two. She was… well she was like gold. Her skin, her hair, her eyes, even her clothes were like gold made flesh. When she walked into my smith it was like the sun had walked in.”

“I don’t care for your sentiments.”

“I’m not –I mean it literally!” Brokkr cried in frustration. “She wasn’t just the hues of gold, she shone from the inside like gold reflecting sunlight. She was a Völva, might have been one of the most powerful ever been, her seiðr was so much it exuded from her.”

“Go on,” encouraged Sigyn, biting her lip.

“She came in and said that she had a commission for me, one that we needed to make together to be truly powerful.”

“The collar,” said Loki. Brokkr nodded.

“She told me that she had seen a prophecy, where a great wolf would be born of No Name Man, and when the wolf came of age he would devour Odin in one bite and bring about the end of Asgard, and with it the dead would break free of Vahalla and Niflheim and they would consume the universe with their warring until nothing was left. She said that if we made the collar and gave it to Odin he would be able to prevent this. I asked her why Odin would let such a creature live at all, and she told me it would be impossible to kill the beast.”

“Why? Why would it be impossible to kill him?”

“She did not say, I swear.” Brokkr huddled up even tighter. “I just forged the collar as she wove her seiðr into the metal. I did not understand it.”

“Did she say what the seiðr was for?”

“She said it would ensure that the wolf would never become the terrible beast it was destined to become, that once Odin claimed the collar from me, his might would force the wolf into submission.”

“And how is it reversed?”

Brokkr hesitated, and Loki pointed Gungnir at his throat. “Tell me now.”

Brokkr looked to Sigyn for help and she looked back without expression, “Tell him the truth Brokkr.”

“T-the only way to reverse the spell, she said, is to put it on Odin. It will force Odin into submission, give the wolf his true strength. But she said no one would dare, because it might kill him.”

Sigyn’s mouth went dry as she realised it might come down to a choice between Loki’s father or his son. She also realised just why Frigga sewed Brokkr’s mouth shut with magic, it would be far too dangerous to let him walk freely with the knowledge that Loki might be planning to kill Odin for the sake of a wolf prophesied to destroy the universe.

Sigyn grabbed Brokkr’s broad arm and made him look at her, “So you had no idea that you were condemning an innocent, beautiful child to a lifetime of misery? It never occurred to you that that woman was lying to save her own skin?”

“Wh-what? No.”

“You lie. You knew what you were doing, you knew that this woman was the one fated to be killed by Fenrir, not Odin. How much did she pay you?” asked Loki. Brokkr hiccupped and snapped his mouth shut. “Answer me Brokkr, or I will make having your lips sewn shut seem like a mere pinch.”

Sigyn looked at Brokkr again, and any compassion she might have felt towards him in the shock of seeing him so bloodied vanished at the sneaky look on his face. She pulled away and stood up, going to her husband’s side and looking down at the small man coolly.

“You cannot do this Odinson!” Brokkr barked, “You cannot treat me like this, I am a representative of my realm!”

“You do it a disservice,” Sigyn spat, trembling slightly as she stood next to Loki. To her surprise Loki slipped his hand into hers as he stared down at the dwarf. Brokkr had trouble meeting Loki’s eyes as Loki spoke in a cold, empty voice,

“Tell the truth Brokkr, tell me who the woman was.”

“I don’t know her real name!” Brokkr burst out, “I just knew her by what she told me.”

“Which was?”

“Heith! She called herself Heith!”

The name was familiar to Sigyn, but she could not place it as Loki said,

“Where did she come from?”

“I don’t know! She talked about coming from fire and steel and threads of space. She was half mad but she paid me with three great halls of gold to make the collar and deliver it to Odin with the words of warning on my lips –and the queen backed me up!”

Loki’s head snapped to the side to look at Frigga, who cast her eyes down in shame.

“Mother?”

“I saw… I saw Fenrir devouring Odin, before Brokkr came. But I did not know where he came from then Loki, I swear it. You and Thor had not even been imagined then, and it was an uneasy time for Asgard. Your father had just taken the throne, the Ljósálfar and what would become the Dökkálfar were at war, there was unrest in Vanaheim… and your father had lost his brothers to assassins who wanted to crumble the house of Bor. So when I saw the vision I did not question it, and when Brokkr put that collar in Odin’s hands, we thought it was a gift from the Norns.”

“Heith sent the vision to her,” said Sigyn softly, “She must have.”

Loki turned back to Brokkr, “Where is she now?”

“I don’t know! She left once the collar was in Odin’s hands. I have not seen her since.”

Loki regarded him for a long moment, then said,

“If I remove the collar and place it on Odin, will it kill him?”

“It might. Everything he fed into the wolf, his fears, nightmares, all of it, he will have to experience all at once. Only when that happens, when the last of it has been put back into Odin will the spell unravel from the wolf.”

“And will Fenrir be restored to his true form? Or will he be grown?”

“I don’t know! She didn’t tell me.”

“I see. Very well then.” Loki lifted his hand holding the tiny key, as if feeling the weight of it, and he let go of Sigyn’s hand.

“W-what are you going to do to me?” Brokkr asked, looking from Frigga to Sigyn to Loki.

Loki closed his fingers around the key and regarded the dwarf. “Nothing. You’ll find that once you leave this room you won’t be able to speak of this event to anyone,” he waved his hand and all the blood disappeared. “And no one will know what happened. But it might be in your best interest to never set foot upon Asgard’s land again, because I will let you leave now… but I cannot promise your safety if you come back. Unless of course, it turns out there has been more damage to Fenrir than you have said ”

Sigyn looked at him in astonishment. He was just going to let Brokkr leave? He wasn’t going to punish him for what he had knowingly done to Fenrir?

Loki gave him a little smile, and said, “I look forward to seeing you tonight.”

“I…” Brokkr nodded, recoiling slightly, “Yes your majesty. I will be there.”

“Good. Mother, Sigyn, come.”

Sigyn could not look at Frigga as they followed Loki back to his chambers, shaken to the core by the drastic actions the woman had taken, and all because of what she had said. Once they were back in his chambers, Loki turned to Frigga,

“I think it might be best for you to move to your home, Fensalir, for a while mother, after the festival of course.”

“Loki, I just-”

“I don’t care what your intentions were, I was going to deal with Brokkr myself, I had no need of your interference.”

Sigyn narrowed her eyes, not believing him. In spite of everything, she trusted her gut when it insisted that Loki had had no plans for how to deal with Brokkr, at least nothing beyond getting the dwarf alone.

“Would you have done any different?” she asked quietly.

“That is not the point,” said Loki looking at her, “I am the king of Asgard, I will not have my subjects conspiring behind my back. I have had enough lies from your mouth, mother, to last me a lifetime.”

Frigga looked heartbroken and Sigyn reached out, grabbing Loki’s wrist and half embracing him.

“Loki, please, your mother is at least trying to make amends, isn’t that worth consideration?”

“You don’t get to question my decisions as king, Sigyn.”

“I’m… sorry. I just want to make you happy,” Sigyn said carefully, “I know you still hurt from the secrets and lies and betrayals, but I know you still love your mother, and I don’t want you to lose her as well as your brother and father.”

“Yes, well we’ve established that I don’t feel love anymore, and perhaps that is for the best,” said Loki slowly.

“What?”

“Perhaps it is all the better for me to be incapable of love or anger the way I once was. After all, passion betrays us all eventually, and as a king it is a weakness I cannot afford. So perhaps this is for the best.”

Sigyn’s stomach fell to the floor. She let go of Loki’s wrist and stepped back. “Loki…”

Loki looked at her with a glimmer of his usual excited certainty, “This is the best way I can rule, I can be fair, be clear and just.”

“But… Loki, you won’t be king forever.”

Loki narrowed his eyes, “Meaning?”

Sigyn swallowed, “Meaning your father will awaken, Thor will return, eventually you will have to step down and you’ll no longer need to be king. And what will you have then?”

“I will have you,” said Loki with absolute certainty, and it almost broke Sigyn’s heart as she asked,

“Are you sure?”

Loki furrowed his brow, while behind him, Frigga was watching with wide eyes.

“Of course I’m sure, why shouldn’t I be sure?”

“Well… what makes you think I want a husband who doesn’t love me?”

“Is that what this is about? I can still be a husband, I can still give you children.”

“But what about the love you felt for me? Can you give me that?”

“I can still do all the same things as before!”

Sigyn shook her head, “Can you give me the love and trust you did when you let me coax you into shape-shifting into a woman after Angrboda made you feel like no man? Can you give me the same tender care as you did when we first made love? Can you give me everything that you’ve given me in the centuries we’ve loved each other, now that you can no longer feel it?”

Loki was silent. Sigyn bit her lip, then said, “It’s not about what you can do Loki, it’s about what you feel, and what your feelings bring to your actions. I couldn’t trust you like this to be my lover. What if you decided that Asgard needs an heir, and I wasn’t in the mood to make one? Would your newfound logic deem that irrelevant?”

“That’s nonsense-”

“I can’t trust that it isn’t.” Sigyn stepped closer and lowered her voice, “Loki, I waited nearly forty years for you to recover from the damage Angrboda did to your ability to trust to make love with you. I waited because you needed me to, because you needed that time to move on, to trust me once more, and you knew I would not leave you, or take any other lover because I love you, and you knew I would not press the issue with you despite being almost permanently aroused around you. You trusted me because you knew I had feelings, I cared, I loved, I trusted and was thus trustworthy. It’s why we never worried about betraying one another, it’s why we have stayed together for so long. It’s not because we find each other physically satisfying, it’s because our emotions fit and blend together –and if you no longer have any, then we won’t work.”

Loki stared at her and for the first time Sigyn felt like she was getting through to him as his hand curled around her wrist.

“You cannot be saying that you won’t be my wife anymore, we’re married, it’s a bond for life.”

“Only on Midgard. We married on Midgard, their laws aren’t recognised by any other realm, you know that. So really, our marriage only exists because we want it to exist.”

“And now you don’t want it?”

“I want it –but I can’t trust you like this.” Sigyn inhaled slowly, unable to believe that she was really saying this, “Loki, if you don’t accept the help of Aetril, and anyone else who offers, then I will not be your wife. I will marry Berach and hate you for making me do that.”

“So you’ll blame me for your actions?” Loki’s hand tightened on her wrist. Sigyn held firm,

“It will be your fault because all you have to do is admit you need help, admit you need to be fixed and I’m yours. Is your pride really so much more important to you than I am?”

Loki squeezed harder and dragged her closer, his eyes flashing, “You are mine! No one else’s.”

“I’m yours because I chose to be, like you chose to be mine,” said Sigyn, refusing to be cowed, not when she could feel the jealous panic brewing under his skin like a storm. She did not want to hurt him, but it was a relief to see his emotions getting the better of him. “And I can choose to leave you, if I can no longer trust you.”

“To slip into Berach’s bed like a-”

“Like a what Loki? Say it! Say it and prove just how much you’ve let this change consume you!” Sigyn glared up into his eyes, not flinching at the flash of fury. Loki’s hand spasmed and released her wrist, his face turning from her. Sigyn reached up and grabbed his chin, forcing him to look at her, “I love you, that has not changed, it never will. And if I go to Berach’s bed, it will be against my own desire, submitting my body to something I don’t want, but I will if it will make you see that I love you enough not to have you, I love you so much I will put myself under the threat of a miserable life without you if it will make you do this simple, single thing.”

Loki closed his eyes to escape from her, and she let him go.

“It’s your choice Loki. You get to decide what you want. Me, or your pride. That’s what it will come down to.”

She dropped into her deep curtsey and bowed her head, “Majesty.”

She straightened up and walked out, refusing to look back as she walked to the conveyor. She vaguely heard Frigga call her son’s name, and he snapped at her to leave. She held the door when she heard Frigga calling to her. The former queen of Asgard hurried into the small space with her and turned to her as they descended.

“Sigyn… you did not have to do that,” Frigga said quietly.

“Yes I did your highness, it’s the only thing I have to gamble, and it’s the only thing I can think of that he might still care enough for to surrender his pride.”

“I am the patron of marriage, just as my son is the patron of mischief. I can make your marriage binding by Asgard’s law. That would stop any schemes of the Ljósálfar, to protect you –we don’t even have to tell Loki until he makes his decision.”

Sigyn shook her head, “I appreciate the sentiment, but I won’t lie or trick him. I never have and I never will. I meant what I said and I will keep my word. If Loki does not accept the help of others for his magic, I will submit my own happiness and marry Berach. I must mean to keep my oath, or else he has no reason to decide because it would be an empty threat. So I cannot be secure my lady.”

Frigga reached out and took Sigyn’s hands, squeezing them tight, “Forgive me for my harsh words before. I should have supported you, you have always been a good woman, you’ve always been good to my son –I see now you have been even better since you knew of all his struggles. I imagine you helped him through them more than I.”

Sigyn felt something in her chest unknot and she shrugged, “We both want what is best for him. Unfortunately in this case I must force his hand, which I hate myself for doing.”

“I do believe he will choose you,” said Frigga softly.

“I hope you’re right,” said Sigyn, “I want to believe he will. If he were himself I know he would. But… as he is, I fear there is a chance I am doomed.”

Frigga lifted her hands and pressed a soft kiss to them, “Then perhaps reminding him of what he might lose would be wise.”

Sigyn quirked an eyebrow, “The dancing tonight?”

Frigga nodded, smiling faintly, “You’d be surprised how powerful a little sex appeal will work. Just be yourself, and I think Loki will have his answer if he doesn’t already.”

Sigyn nodded, tugging her fingers away, “I certainly will try. My Lady, if I might ask… if Loki does not answer me directly –and it’s his way to avoid it, I won’t know of his doings until he’s ready to reach out to me. So… if something happens to him… will you please write to me? I’ll be travelling through Vanaheim on a tour of my realm, so the people might know me, but if something happens to him, I would like to know before he sends me a message putting it in his own way.”

Frigga nodded, “Of course my dear… daughter.”

Sigyn gave her a wobbly smile, “I have to go my lady.”

Frigga kissed her brow before she left. It did not erase Sigyn’s memory of Brokkr lying on the floor or Frigga covered in his blood, but Sigyn decided the nasty little dwarf deserved it and more for what he had done to Fenrir, and it seemed right that Frigga dramatically put herself on Loki’s side at last.

It was something good out of this mess. 


	48. The Gift of the Dökkálfar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sigyn's declaration sends Loki over the edge and Hel must intervene.

Loki slammed his door after his mother and grimaced as his head gave a sudden and vicious throb of pain. He covered his eyes with a hand and hissed, trying to push it away.

Why was everyone against him? Why were they all trying to manipulate him? He was the manipulator, not them!

He stumbled back to his chair and collapsed into it in a flail of long limbs, his head throbbing with a blinding pain behind his eyes. He squeeze them shut and breathed heavily, trying to will the pain away. He could feel his heart beating against his chest, the blood pulsing through his body, loud and heavy as it pressed against his seiðr which recoiled and twisted against it.

“Argh!” he cried out, throwing out his arm, seeking a grip to keep him centred. There was a clatter and then a thump as something landed on the rug beneath his feet. He was immobilised by the pain and the weight of his seiðr as it started to rush through him like a river tumbling down a mountain.

A particularly painful throb made him feel like his head was about to crack open and he screamed, eyes snapping open. Where was his mother? Where was Sigyn? They could not have gone far –but his chambers were blanketed by a silencing spell. No one could hear him screaming, not even the guards standing right outside his door.

His vision wavered and warped as his eyes rolled in their sockets, the seiðr building up behind them and trying to push them out. He frantically tried to subdue it, if he didn’t it was going to kill him, the day before his coronation celebration he was going to die because he couldn’t control his own magic. As he choked on another scream his eyes rolled and fell on something on the floor.

A black ball… an orb. The Crochan Orb from Malekith!

Loki threw himself out of the chair and landed in a heap on the floor when his legs refused to support his weight. He shrieked as the seiðr started wrapping itself around his brain. Memories began to flash in front of him, and voices started screaming at him from all directions.

“Loki must you be so reclusive?” cried Thor.

“I’m bored, come here and fix that,” purred Sigyn.

“Precious, precious Loki, my darling little fool,” sighed Angrboda.

“You’re my son, I only wanted to protect you,” declared Odin.

“Fa-fa! Fa-fa!”

Loki covered his ears, trying to block the sounds out, but it was pointless, they were in his head. They only got louder.

“You look just like your mother,” said Laufey

“He’s always been jealous of Thor,” said Sif

“She’s incredibly intelligent, I hope all our children inherit it from her. But she’s not one for upsetting a system, even if it hurts her. She’s like Hlin, you know how nervous she is,” said Sverrir.

Loki threw out his hand, desperately reaching for the Crochan Orb. If he could just reach it, he might be able to make it all stop. It was inches out of reach, and he tried to stretch.

“Agh!” His whole body screamed in protest as the seiðr continued to seep into his brain, pulling like a curious child at the different parts to see inside him. He collapsed in a heap and convulsed into a ball, choking silently as the air in his lungs caught in his throat and lodged there. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t move, he could only listen as voices passed over him, again and again.

“You’ll always be mine Loki, always,” said Angrboda.

“I dare you, shrink it! Show me if making it tiny makes you less of a man,” Sigyn challenged.

“Loki you’re amazing!” laughed Sverrir, voice high and excited in its boy form.

“I’m yours because I chose to be, like you chose to be mine,” said Sigyn.

Loki twitched on the ground, the seiðr building inside his skull.

He was about to die.

A hand touched his shoulder, causing shooting pain to cut through his shoulder and chest, making him scream. The hand retracted, then another in a glove, pressed the Crochan Orb into his hand. He squeezed his fingers around it and tried to focus. The orb started to heat up in his hand as it opened itself up and started to pull on the threads of seiðr inside Loki, winding them up inside itself. As it did the pain started to recede. Loki clung on, willing more and more of the seiðr to go into the orb to be held.

Finally he managed to gasp for air and rolled onto his back, still clutching the orb and pumping magic into it. He shuddered and trembled as he stared up at the ceiling, the rush of relief at still being alive nearly overwhelming him.

“It won’t fix you.”

Loki lifted his head and twisted painfully onto his side to look around. Hel stood in the shadows, watching him impassively.

“Hel!” he reached for her with his free hand. Hel shook her head,

“I cannot get too close to you… your seiðr would try to feed off mine, it could kill you.”

“What?” he tried to demand, but it came out more like a whimper. Hel sighed,

“You’re unstable right now, it’ll pass, but until then, since I’m a part of the universe as the mistress of the dead, I’m too easy a source of more power, you’ll try to drain me and my power will kill you.”

Loki tried to get to his feet, even his knees would have been better, but he was still shaking too hard and he dropped his head to the floor in exhaustion, drawing the orb to his chest. For a time, only his tremulous breathing and the crackling of the fire filled the room. Loki drew up his legs as soon as he could stand to move them, feeling his heart beat slowing down against the cool press of the orb. He could feel the seiðr seeping away, and the pressure receded with the pain, leaving him feeling disjointed and exhausted. As he lay there, focusing on his breathing, he felt more than just the pressure that had been killing him slip away. With every pulse of the orb, he felt like something was slipping back into place. He licked his lips and tasted something there, some sort of plant. He licked them again, trying to place it. His whole focus narrowed to that faint taste.

The fourth taste made caused a flash of realisation. It was Honeysuckle sap from Vanaheim. Sigyn used it on her lips. It must have rubbed off on him when she had kissed him.

Loki sucked in a sharp breath as he relived the last few days, the last few conversations with Sigyn, with his mother. His mother had mutilated Brokkr in an act of vengeance, his wife had threatened to leave him if he didn’t accept the help of Aetril, and he had just stood there like a statue, baffled and incapable of feeling anything more than mild annoyance at all this inconvenient nonsense.

He wrapped both hands around the orb and held it against his mouth, focusing on pumping more seiðr into it. With every push he felt the strange disconnect, which he had ceased to wonder at, slip away as the parts of his mind that he had cut off slid back into line.

“What’s wrong with me Hel?” asked Loki, his voice hushed in the heavy air of his room.

“You’re dying father,” said Hel without emotion.

“Why?”

“Because you were not ready for this change, and you’ve let it run free, letting the seiðr control you, rather than trying to master it.”

Loki shifted and was able to uncurl and push himself up so he was sitting with his back against his chair. He looked up at Hel, feeling humbled at how she dominated the room, tall and mighty -she was like Thor.

“What more?” he asked, “Hel, I feel like I’m losing my mind and being consumed by something I don’t know how to fight.”

“I know father,” said Hel.

“I don’t like you calling me that,” said Loki, his head dropping onto the seat of his chair, “’Father’… I don’t like that word, it’s too formal. I call Odin ‘father’ because I fear and loath and love him… don’t I?”

A tiny smile formed on Hel’s half lips, “What should I call you then?”

Loki gave a weak giggle, “Jörmungandr called me ‘Fa-Fa’, and then it became papa. I liked it. The way he’d reach out his little hands to me when he said it…”

“I can call you that,” said Hel quietly. Loki smiled up at her,

“My Hela… my brilliant daughter.”

He could feel it, feel the love spreading through his chest like warm water spreading through his veins, and he wondered how he had not realised its absence before. No wonder Sigyn could not trust him anymore. His smile melted into tears and he leaned his head back, looking up at the ceiling and pulling the orb closer, like a lifeline.

“Oh Hela, I’ve made such a mess! This was meant to be a moment of greatness and glory for me, I was meant to bring all the realms under my spell of words and show them I could bring about a new peace, I was meant to reveal my love for Sigyn in a beautiful display of subtly and grace that would enchant them all so she’d have to be mine. Instead I’ve been drifting in a nothingness, with no real goals and no clear path, and now I’ve lost Sigyn too.”

Hel stepped closer, still too far away, but her face was softer as she gazed upon him with a mixture of affection and pity.

“Papa, you will get another chance, but only if you admit that you need help in saving yourself,”

“To whom? Who can I trust now that Sigyn has abandoned me?” Loki felt sick as he said it, a blaze of anger almost choking him. Had Sigyn not sworn ‘until death parts us’ when they married on Midgard? Did that mean nothing to her?

Hel gave a very strange sounding snort, “Father, you pushed her to this action. You refused to heed her fears, you couldn’t even understand them, so she took the last desperate chance, hoping that your love for her was still there, buried deep inside you and it would be strong enough to push you to here. And look, it did.”

Loki licked his lips, tasting Sigyn’s lip balm again, thinking back over the last few days. How he had felt like he was falling when she had walked into the Throne Room, how he had wanted to drag Sigyn away from Byleist when he saw how close they were standing… and he thought about how the minute she had walked away from him the pain had started.

He huffed a laugh, shaking his head and relaxing his vice grip on the orb, but still keeping it close.

“Is it really that simple?”

“Of course not, this is complex and difficult seiðr, beyond the realms of what most people will ever experience. But the body and the mind will affect it whether it’s complex or basic.” Hel stepped closer again, dipping her head and making her crown flash red in the firelight, “Papa, you love her, you need her more than you want to admit, and she counted on that to break through your walls.”

“Do the walls not protect me?”

“Not forever, they are only a short term solution, as is that,” She pointed at the orb, which was starting to glow faintly with green light. “Crochan Orbs can hold vast amounts of seiðr, but eventually, even that will be full.”

Loki held it up, examining it, “It’s seeping away the excess seiðr that’s been building up inside me. It’s too volatile and unwieldy for me to use it often enough to keep the levels even, so it builds up inside me. And the more it builds, the more I have to cut off my heart from it, because my emotions could cause it to erupt if I were enflamed enough.”

Hel nodded. Loki chuckled again, bitterly, “I’m like a blocked pipe, waiting to burst.” He lowered his hand into his lap, “I could have killed so many if I had lost control of it on the first day. So many children… if Aetril had not stepped in it to help-”

“No one died papa, and now you’re aware of the danger. You’ve been letting the seiðr carry you away from yourself, but for the moment, you are more yourself again, and you must use it to your advantage.”

“For the moment?”

“Once the seiðr builds up again, you’ll start to lose yourself inside it, and you’ll go back to how you were.”

Loki turned the orb around in his hands, easing the flow of seiðr into it and letting out a heavy breath as he was left feeling empty after being unnaturally full. He felt like he was waking up from a long dream, his head clearing and yet… had he not felt clear before?

“It’s all… so contradictory,” he said softly, running a slightly shaky hand through his hair, “Such is the nature of seiðr I know… it is alive, and yet not, and I’ve always shared a close connection to it… but now it is trying to engulf me.”

“It no longer sees you as a vessel from which it can flow, but as a part of it, and a part of it that is lacking. You must cut the bonds between it and you… if not all of them, at least some of them, before it overwhelms the flesh part of you, and destroys it.”

“I thought it would drive me mad, that is what the myths say.”

“Yes, that would be the last thing that happens, your mind would break before your body.”

Loki pressed a fist to his lips, “What do I do Hela?”

Hel sighed, “I don’t know.”

Loki’s eyes snapped up, “What?”

“I don’t know papa… because I’ve never seen the few this has happened to survive it. Whether in a few days, a few years, sometimes even a century, they all lose the fight with the seiðr and it consumes them. Body and Soul.” For the first time, Hel looked sad. Loki reached out and was relieved when she let him touch her cheek.

“I don’t intend to lose to this Hel. I am the master of seiðr, I will not be mastered by it.”

Hel nodded, “I know, and I expect you to still retain your soul when you finally reach your end, so that you can come to my home.”

Loki gave a faint smile, “I have far too much to do first. Like freeing Fenrir.” His smile faded as he remembered Brokkr and the key. “Who is the Golden Völva?”

Hel shook her head, “I do not know, she is hidden from me. I am like Heimdall, only better. I can see much in this universe, well beyond the Nine Realms, but not all is clear.”

Loki sighed, looking around for the key, realising he must have dropped it in his agony, “To free Fenrir, I must risk Odin’s life. I will need to make sure no one stands in my way.”

“Do not rush this papa, Fenrir has waited for a long time, he can wait until the right moment,” said Hel sternly.

Loki grimaced, but nodded, knowing she was right. Hel’s expression softened a little, “I have been studying his form, and I believe the real Fenrir is locked inside that monster. I will not say he does not suffer, but I believe he has been unchanged by the collar, what you see is a kind of illusion, a shell of anger, hate and fear, inside which the real Fenrir is trapped.”

Loki rolled the orb over his palm, the green light flickering inside it, “Then you think that when I free him, he may be exactly as he was when the collar was put on him? He might be a newborn babe still?”

“Maybe… although there’s no telling what effects the long trauma might have on him,” said Hel.

The idea that he might get back the baby he remembered so clearly made Loki’s heart clench. Might he possibly get a chance to raise one of his children to adulthood? It would be more than he had ever hoped for, and he smiled softly at the thought. The smile slipped away quickly as he sat up,

“Brokkr! I have to deal with him, I have to make sure he never-”

Hel lifted a regal hand and Loki cut himself off.

“Leave Brokkr to me,” she said lightly, “I may be the mother to the dead, but much like many forget the danger of Amma Frigga because she is a patron of marriage and motherhood, it doesn’t mean I don’t know how to unleash the cruelty of eternal misery upon deserving people.”

“I barely listened to his words before, I just wanted it all to go away and stop bothering me earlier,” said Loki, rubbing his forehead. “If I’d been thinking, I would have gotten him alone and coaxed him into telling me the truth as if I agreed with him, not… what mother did.”

“What do you think of his story now?”

“I don’t know… seems like he was still lying to me… or maybe he has forgotten things. Perhaps he’s just more afraid of that Golden Völva than of me. I need to question him again.”

“Let me do it papa. You’d be surprised how many creatures feel they cannot lie to me, without any influence on my part.” The grin on Hel’s face was vicious and amused.

Doubt pulled on Loki’s mind, but he nodded, “I need you to make him relive the story moment for moment, I want every detail. I don’t care if you tell him that if he tells the absolute truth he’ll be absolved of his crimes, but I need the absolute truth, I need to find that völva! She’s the one who did this to Fenrir, and I want to know who she is, and why she did it.”

Hel nodded, “I can do that.” She rose to her feet, “I must go now, I have little time left before my body starts to suffer the effects of Asgard.”

Loki started and then dragged himself to his feet, “Wait!”

Hel looked at him curiously. Loki swallowed, then threw his arms around Hel’s shoulders, holding her close, “My brilliant daughter…”

Hel turned her face to hide it in his neck, “My papa,” she whispered. Loki squeezed her tighter, feeling his eyes start to sting as the urge to crush Hel with his arms nearly overwhelmed him. He wanted her to stay with him, to never let her go. Yet he knew Hel was no helpless child, and he would have hated it if Frigga and Odin had done that to him. Slowly, he eased his grip and let Hel go, peering up into her face to make sure he had it memorised.

“You know, you really need to stop helping me, it’s my job to help you,” he said lightly, trying to smile.

Hel smirked, “If I ever feel the dead need some mischief in their afterlife, I will come to you.” She leaned forward and kissed his brow, “I have always existed as a part of the universe, and I exist because of you. If you had not loved me so much you slew mother to save me, the universe might not exist. Is that not help enough?”

“Don’t say that, I’ll become as arrogant as Thor!” Loki laughed, and it seemed to ease a tightness in his chest. Then he sobered, “I never asked before. Is your… is Angrboda with you in Niflheim?”

Hel tilted her head forward ever so slightly, “I see her occasionally. She wanders around my realm, as they all do.”

Loki’s stomach turned, “And… do you speak?”

“Only once. When she first came to my domain, I spoke with her, telling her who I was –she recognised me of course, I am hardly forgettable. She was very proud to have made me. I told her she would have destroyed me, and all of creation if she had gotten her way. It was you who made me what I am papa, not her. She has not spoken to me since.”

Loki had no idea what to say to that, he had never really thought about it before, and there was really nothing to say. So he just took Hel’s gloved hand and kissed it, not caring at the clammy cold against his lips. Hel smiled and dipped her head again, then vanished without a sound or a flicker. She was just gone and Loki was left holding air. He swallowed and dropped his hand. He staggered back to his chair and sank into it, feeling exhausted. For a while he just sat there, trying to acclimatise to this new sensation of having no seiðr pressing upon his mind and body. He hadn’t even realised what was happening until now. He had noticed something was off, but he had never imagined it was this, that the universal seiðr was trying to consume him completely into itself. That wouldn’t destroy him, it would erase anything in Loki that was him, and convert him into just another part of the universal seiðr, as a form of energy without thought or feeling.

Loki had experienced that existence only partially when he had thrown himself into the subspace after Fenrir had ripped off his arm, he had no desire to get any closer to it than he had. Yet he had been sinking towards it, slowly but surely as the seiðr wove itself forcibly into him, trying to pick him apart from the inside, shrouding his mind in a blanket of disconnect to keep him from realising what was happening to him.

Loki had never seen seiðr as anything but a positive, if dangerous, force. He had fought against anyone who dared suggest that seiðr was evil or weak, because it wasn’t. Really, seiðr was a neutral force, neither good nor evil, capable of being used for both, and had been used many times over for various purposes. Natural seiðr had its own rhythm and reason, picking places to form strange pockets where miracles and wonders could happen to the least gifted user, having access points and vacuums throughout the universe. Trying to control it like a master controls a slave never ended well, seiðr would always bite back. It had to be treated like a friend, or a generous lord. You never took from seiðr, you coaxed, and if seiðr wanted something for itself, it was hard to stop it from taking it.

Loki inhaled shakily and looked at the Crochan orb. It glowed softly with green light in the centre, an indication of just how much seiðr he had pumped into it before he had recovered his senses. Like Hel said, it was not a solution, even if he had hundreds of them, the orbs could never contain the power trying to infiltrate him. If Loki could not figure out a way to stop this process, he would cease to exist. He dropped the orb to cover his face with his hands, sucking in deep breaths to try and calm himself, as the terror rose up from the pits of his stomach and wound its way around his heart and lungs.

“I will not let this happen! I will not!” he spat to the air, “I am Loki! I am the King of Asgard, Husband to Sigyn and Father to Hel, Fenrir and Jörmungandr! I will not let you take me!”

He stood up, but faltered because he had nowhere to go and no idea where to start. He had no idea how long it would be before the seiðr built up again and he sank down into his detachment. After that there was no guarantee that he would even think to keep trying.

There was no other option, he needed help. He needed someone to keep reading and studying and trying to help him free himself from this mess when he no longer could. Which meant he needed someone who knew him, who could be patient and determined and still keep him on the path that benefitted Asgard. Frigga was clearly going to be a problem, she might do anything to try and earn Loki’s forgiveness, and Loki didn’t need that right now. Sigyn was going home tomorrow, and now that Loki thought about it, she seemed to have a lot on her mind. He didn’t want her to be burdened by this when she was clearly already on the edge. Aetril had offered her help, and Loki decided that, yes, he would accept her offer but he couldn’t trust her. Trying to help him would make him vulnerable to her, and she still seemed determined to seduce and marry him. Besides, she was a monarch of a rival realm, he wouldn’t even consider trusting her to be in charge of his care.

There were only two people he would think of trusting right now, so he summoned them.

**~*~**

Sverrir tried to hide a yawn as he headed for the conveyor that would take him up to the king’s chambers. He hoped whatever Loki needed justified his leaving a warm bed with his beloved wife only hours before the sunset and the Celebration of Sex ceremony began. Sverrir wanted to be full of energy tonight, he and Ilmr had not made love in a while, first because Sverrir was so busy he literally fell onto his bed asleep before his head hit the pillow, and with today approaching fast, they had decided to wait to really enjoy themselves. Delayed gratification and all that. Princess Sigyn had better not let them all down.

He turned a corner and came to a stop.

“Father?”

Kvasir turned where he stood waiting for the conveyor and he gave Sverrir a small smile of greeting, “Good afternoon my son.”

“Wh-what are you doing here?”

“The king summoned me, as I assume he did you,” said Kvasir, a slight twitch in his eye the only indication that he was nervous. Sverrir nodded and stood by his father while they waited for the conveyor to drop down to them. Once it opened its doors, they stepped inside and directed it up.

“What do you think the king wants?” wondered Sverrir.

“I can only hope good things,” said Kvasir with a huff of false laughter.

“Knowing the king? That’s a weak hope father,” said Sverrir with a sigh.

Kvasir’s chuckle was a little more genuine now.

The einherjar lined the corridor as they walked to the doors. Sverrir nervously lifted a hand and knocked on the door. After a moment it swung open just enough to let them in and, when no voice called them, they entered quietly. It was very dark in the king’s antechamber, with only a fire to give any kind of light. Sitting at the fire, leaning forward with his hands pressed together between his knees, was the king. Sverrir thought it was the first time in a while he looked closer to Aesir, ever since his transformation he had seemed grander, bigger, and more unknowable. Now he just looked like Loki, troubled and unhappy, as he had often seemed before he took the throne.

Both Sverrir and Kvasir sensed that they ought to kneel, and kneel they did, bowing their heads.

“Your majesty, you summoned us,” said Sverrir, trying not to sound nervous. Loki lifted his head and looked at them as if surprised they were there. Was it Sverrir’s imagination or did Loki’s eyes seem less startlingly green.

“Yes, I did,” he murmured, his eyes flicking up and Sverrir heard the door shut behind them. “Stand Kvasir, Sverrir, I need to speak with you.”

Sverrir got to his feet, noticing that the king was holding something in his hands. Loki sighed and sat back, one hand rising to rub at his mouth.

“I fear I am at risk of repeating myself, but I must ask again. Can I trust you?”

Sverrir felt a stab of frustration, had he not proven himself already? Why did Loki continuously query if he could trust him? What would it take to prove to him that Sverrir was on his side?

“Of course your majesty, you can trust us,” said Kvasir. Loki looked up and narrowed his eyes,

“I ask only you, not Sverrir. I do trust Sverrir, but you… given our last conversation, you must understand why I doubt you.”

Sverrir felt awkwardly deflated as his father cringed.

“Yes your majesty, but I swear upon my honour, you can trust me. I will do whatever I have to to earn your trust again,” said Kvasir desperately. Sverrir knew his father had missed his duties, and whatever had caused the rift between him and the king had been eating at him. He had no idea what it could be that had hurt Loki so much he banished Kvasir from court, but he knew it would have been important.

Loki stared at Kvasir for a long time, finally nodding, “I believe you, but do not think that this fixes all. I am however willing to give you a chance… because I need your help.”

Sverrir’s head snapped up as Loki’s voice cracked on the last word.

“Majesty?”

Loki looked away and gestured at the two chairs across from him. Sverrir and Kvasir sat down and waited. Loki bit at his lip, a strange smile making its way onto his face, his chin trembling slightly as he rubbed at his mouth. The longer they waited, the more alarmed Sverrir became. Finally Loki let out a shaking breath and smiled bitterly,

“I am dying.”

Sverrir would have been less horrified if Loki had stabbed him.

“Your majesty?” he asked softly. Loki ran his teeth over his lip again and said,

“My metamorphosis is a poisoned chalice.”

Sverrir frowned at the term, “I do not understand.”

Loki laughed quietly, “It means what seemed so wonderful at the start… is actually a terrible thing. This transition is killing me, it will kill me eventually unless I can… do something to stop it.”

“I don’t –how can it be killing you?” asked Sverrir desperately.

“Magic consumes magic,” said Kvasir quietly.

Loki nodded, “Yes. Did you know?”

“I feared, but I had no proof, and I did not wish to alarm you before I knew,” said Kvasir, rubbing his palms against each other.

“I would not have listened to you before,” said Loki with a shake of his head, “Do you know how long I have?”

“You’re one of the strongest people I know your majesty… but for all we know it could be days or weeks.”

“Days?” demanded Sverrir jumping to his feet, “You knew of this and you said nothing to me?”

“I wanted to be sure,” said Kvasir. “I had faith… faith in your majesty that you would be able to stay strong.”

“Sverrir,” Loki called softly and Sverrir turned to him. Loki gave him a mild, almost affectionate smile, “Do you not see a difference between me now and me yesterday?”

Sverrir looked at him carefully and tilted his head, “I… I could not be sure majesty.”

Loki laughed and tossed whatever he was holding at Sverrir, who caught it on a reflex. “Look.”

Sverrir looked at the orb in his hand, recognising it as the Crochan Orb given by the Dökkálfar. It was glowing softly with green energy, which Sverrir recognised as Loki’s magic. He peered into it in confusion,

“You… put your seiðr inside this? And now…”

“Do I not seem more like myself?” asked Loki.

Sverrir nodded, unwilling to grasp anything that was being said to him. He did not want to believe that his king and friend could die, and certainly not by his own magic. Loki gave a rueful grin,

“I’ve made quite a mess for you and the other lendmenn, Sverrir.” He turned to Kvasir, “Kvasir, I don’t want you to return to the council, I want Dag to remain in your place. Instead I want you to devote your time to trying to undo this change, or at least stop it from killing me. I know that Queen Aetril intends to offer her help, but I cannot trust her. However, I want to believe I can trust you. So… can I trust you to save my life? Because the fact is once the seiðr builds up inside me again, it may keep me from caring enough to try.”

Sverrir had the strange sensation of cold water running down his back as Loki looked at Kvasir. “But, majesty, can you not do this again?” he held up the orb, unsure if he could shake it or not.

“I only thought to do it because I nearly died not an hour ago because I lost control, if I hadn’t grabbed the orb and funnelled the excess into the orb, none of us would be standing here right now. It’s not a fix, it’s just a temporary halting of the problem, because even if we had all the orbs in the universe, I’d eventually run out. I need a more permanent solution, and I need you to find it for me Kvasir.”

Kvasir was pale but he nodded, sliding from the chair to kneel before Loki, “I will do everything in my power to find a solution. I shall begin at once.”

“What about the festival?” asked Loki.

Kvasir gave a small smile, “I am too old to be going to tonight’s festivities, and my wife intends to mind our grandchildren. I will have peace in the palace to study.”

Loki nodded, “I don’t want the other lendmenn to know until absolutely necessary. We shall only tell them that you have begun a serious research project with Queen Aetril on the nature of my metamorphosis.”

“Surely you should tell them, they would want to help,” said Sverrir.

“No, I don’t trust them to keep it to themselves. I’m already worried about how many know that I’m at risk, I don’t want anyone else to know.”

“The Lendmenn are your servants, they would not betray you,” said Sverrir uneasily. Loki shook his head,

“No, it will not pass your lips.”

Sverrir hid a sigh. That had been the one thing he had seen as a benefit to Loki’s odd behaviour. He had been much more willing to let the advisors help, but it seemed that had nothing to do with their attempts to prove themselves and everything to do with Loki’s personality being tampered with.

“As you wish your majesty,” said Kvasir, rising to his feet, “Was there anything else you wished of us?”

Loki shook his head, “No… just that. My life, get it back for me.”

Any irritation at Loki’s lack of trust slipped away at those words. He sounded as close to frightened as Sverrir could ever remember hearing from him.

“We will your majesty, we will!” he said pressing a fist to his chest. Loki nodded and waved them out.

As they descended in the conveyor, Sverrir looked at Kvasir, “Father… can you save him?”

“I have to son, I have to.” 


	49. Death and the Dwarf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hel pays Brokkr a visit.

In the beautiful rooms of Valaskjálf, the Dvergar Brokkr could not get his hands to stop shaking as he tried to wash his face. He felt sick and drained, barely able to stay standing as he scrubbed, the memories of what had just transpired repeating in his head over and over and making him shiver once more. The sensation of the thread sliding through his skin continued on even though the threads appeared gone, and every time he even thought about that völva and that wolf he could feel his lips snapping together and being held there by excruciating pain.

Most vividly though, he could remember King Loki, Queen Frigga and Princess Sigyn standing above him, like cold statues, looking down their noses at him as if he was scum on their shoes. If he hadn’t been so stupid as to be distracted by Frigga’s flirtatious purrs about seeking a jewel as beautiful as Freya’s Brisingamen and willing to offer similar terms of payment, he would have seen the moment she threw her spell at him and perhaps deflected it. Instead, he had been immobilised and forced to lie at the former queen of Asgard’s feet as she demanded answers about a thing long past. Then for Loki to stand and act as if it were all a mere interruption of his time, for Sigyn to take the sides of the Aesir –any who said the Vanir princess wasn’t a slave to the Aesir cause was a liar! –it was debasing and humiliating! He, Brokkr of the Dvalin Clan, had been humiliated like a common thrall at their feet, and for what? For taking a payment to create a weapon to defeat an enemy? If it had been Odin who had requested it, the Aesir, in their hypocrisy would praise it and its use.    

“Bastard Odinson! Whore of a Vanir!” he growled to himself as he scrubbed harder, trying to remove the sensation of being covered in his own blood. “I’ll make them pay, I swear I will!”

“Oh I don’t think so.”

It was as if a wind from Jötunheim had swept in and extinguished every light in the room. The soap slipped from his calloused fingers, and Brokkr looked up into the mirror above the sink. He screamed. The half dead woman behind him smirked.

“Dear Brokkr, have you no respect for the Queen of the Dead?”

Brokkr whirled around and tried to run for the door, shrieking as he slammed into it and it did not move.

“No! Please no!” he wailed, clawing at the door as the woman advanced on him.

“Brokkr,” she crooned, “Calm down. I am not here to take you to Niflheim, it is not your time.”

Brokkr’s screaming faded away as he shrank to the floor, trembling. “Please, please… please.”

“Brokkr,” she called again, voice as light as air, “Look at me.”

“No, no, no,” muttered Brokkr, shoving his fingertips into his mouth and biting on them to keep from shrieking.

“Look at me!” she commanded and Brokkr shrieked, looking up at her and crying out again at the monstrous being. Her dead flesh was grey and mottled, fused with living tissue. A single green eye stared down at him in contempt.

“Now,” she purred, “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Hel Lokadóttir, Queen of Niflheim, Ruler of the Dead… sister to Fenrir the Great Wolf.”

Brokkr’s eyes widened and he started screaming again.

“It was her! It was her, I swear it was her!!”

“The Golden Völva?”

“Yes! I swear it was her, she just told me what to do and what to say,”

Hel smiled, making her teeth show on her dead side even more, “I believe you, don’t worry.”

“You –you do?” asked Brokkr in astonishment.

“I do.” Hel stepped closer and stared down at him. Brokkr cowered at her feet, trembling with fear, “But then again, what does that matter? You knew you were causing pain to someone, it was just unfortunate for you that it was the child of Loki and my baby brother.”

“It’s impossible! How can you be his daughter? Please-”

“Cease your whimpering, I grow weary of it,” said Hel irritably. “I am Lokadóttir, and that is a fact that you will never speak of. Nor will you say a word against my family or Asgard, and certainly not against the king. In fact, you will return home and sing the king’s praises. Now, tell me the story of the Golden Völva, the truth and nothing else!”

“I already told Lo- the king!”

“I wish to hear it again. I want every detail and nuance.”

“I…”

Hel rested her hands on her knees, leaning forward like a mother talking to her small child, “Brokkr, it may not be your time, but that doesn’t mean I can’t take you with me. And if I did, do you want to know what the rest of eternity would be like for you?”

Brokkr pressed back against the door as Hel delicately plucked at her singular glove, revealing bone and rotting flesh with the nails hanging off. This hand reached for Brokkr’s face, and he screamed.

**~*~**

It was time to get ready for the third Ostara display. Once more Abjörn dressed Loki, but it was much more uncomfortable this time. Loki had to clench his hands into fists to keep himself from striking Abjörn every time the man rested the washing cloth on his skin. He tried to ignore it by thinking about Sigyn, and what he would say to her. He had considered going before the festival started, but felt it would be better to wait, he needed to think about what he wanted to say. He needed to think about what he wanted to hear.

The idea that Sigyn would let herself be put into an eternal marriage with someone she thought of as a father and teacher, just to try and reach him made Loki’s stomach turn. He would never let it happen. As he sat in the water he found himself thinking about their marriage, about his repeated thoughts on the matter before he had lost control.

Their marriage was a fact. It always would be.

Yet Loki could feel that there was more between them now than just his problem. Something was happening with Sigyn, something she had not yet confided in him. Not that Loki blamed her for it now, he had not exactly been a good listener lately. Still, he had a nagging feeling there was a problem he still couldn’t see between them, and until he could see it, he did not want to mention it. There was enough trouble between them, without adding more. He sighed and leaned his head back.

“Abjörn, how long have you been married?” he asked, looking at the balding man.

“Longer than you’ve been alive your majesty,” said Abjörn with a smile.

“And you enjoy it still?”

Abjörn shrugged, “It’s not the same as it was when we married, but nothing ever is after that much time.”

“Do you get bored of your wife?” asked Loki as Abjörn started to comb his wet hair. It was getting too long, he’d need to cut it. Abjörn chuckled,

“Well, your majesty, you’ll find that, eventually, all men do. It’s simply how it goes. One woman is not enough for us.” He patted Loki’s shoulder, “You are young, and have yet to love the same woman for a thousand years. Once you have you will understand.”

“So… you just… cease to love her?” asked Loki, frowning.

“It is not to be cruel, it is simply our nature to want more than one woman, especially after she has borne children. Women find their contentment and solace in motherhood, in a way we can never understand. They do not need more.”

Loki thought of Sigyn, of Sif, of Hlin and Ilmr. “I see… you really think they don’t want more? That they might want to study or fight or any other things?”

“They are passing fancies, they never stay with them for long. My wife was very fond of plants and cultivating them –she even spoke of becoming one of Idunn’s assistants. But when we married she realised she was happy at home with our children. Women belong at home, where they can indulge their softer natures. Men belong in the world.”

Loki recalled Mýrkjartan declaring that a terrible ratio of space. He wondered just how happy Abjörn’s wife had been to give up her dreams. Perhaps, Loki mused bitterly, he felt a greater pang of sympathy for women staying in the home so much because, in essence, Angrboda had turned him into her little house wife. Angrboda had gone out and hunted for food, while Loki had sat by the cradle and worried over rashes, fevers and coughs. Angrboda had been a good huntress, but she had not always been successful, and those times they had been hungry. Loki had known he could have done something if he had _just been let outside_!

Maybe that was the answer, make every idiot who thought it was easy to be stuck at home with children all day take a turn, and see if they thought the same afterwards.  He imagined Abjörn sulking at the fireside as his wife cheerily bid him goodbye as she went to spend time with her friends in a tavern, or even just went to work, here at the palace where she would rub shoulders with the highest ranks and serve the king. It would have amused him if it hadn’t been so gallingly unlikely.  

“Abjörn, get me some wine,” he ordered irritably.

Abjörn nodded and went to fetch it, allowing Loki enough time to pull a vicious face behind the man’s back like a child. It made him feel slightly better, but not by much. He would have to do something about that while he had the chance. Sverrir would definitely support him, and possibly Dag, which would be useful.

Abjörn gave him his wine and knelt behind him to resume his work, “If I may your majesty, are you considering a marriage?”

“I believe it’s worth thinking about,” said Loki carefully.

“Well, there are many eligible women in this realm who would make fine queens.”

“Including your daughters?” asked Loki with a smirk.

“Why of course your majesty, my girls are good and proper, they would make you a fine wife and mother to your children,” said Abjörn without a hint of shame. Loki’s smirk widened.

“Well, as lovely as I’m sure they are, I think it would be better for Asgard if I married someone like Queen Aetril, or one of her daughters, or the Princess Sigyn,” he said, running his fingers through the water. There was a moment where Abjörn stilled and there was silence, then Abjörn leaned in, all but whispering,

“Forgive me your majesty, but I don’t think the people would take marriage to an outsider very well.”

Loki’s hand snapped into a fist and he clenched his teeth, “Why not?”

“Well, those women could try all they want, they’ll never be Asgardian,” said Abjörn, sounding genuinely sympathetic about it.

“And that’s the best thing to be, is it?” asked Loki tightly.

“Well… of course your majesty,” said Abjörn, again sounding so very genuine.

“My mother is of Vanaheim, and she is most loved.”

“It was different, your father was already married to her when he was crowned. There was little choice in the matter.”

Loki drew in a deep breath and held it for a moment before speaking again,

“You know, I believe I am clean.” He got out of the bath and said nothing while Abjörn dressed him, quietly seething. He wasn’t feeling any better about his behaviour with Sigyn, because he had all but called her a whore for threatening to leave him, because he had ignored her and snubbed her, and allowed her to take the blame for his own hubris. So many times she had reached out to him and he had rejected her. His stomach squirmed as he recalled her face when he had been about as passionate as a bit of wet lettuce about her kisses. His insides squirmed more when he thought about what she had said, that she no longer trusted him as a lover. His seiðr drenched mind had found it ridiculous, but now he was horrified. Trust was the most important thing between them, it was the thing they had grown and nurtured like a plant between them until it was solid and strong as Yggdrasil. Although it wasn’t entirely his fault, he had never asked for any of this, he had managed to damage it quite badly, and he knew he had to repair it.

Abjörn finally finished dressing him and stepped back. Loki tugged on his sleeve, then picked up the Crochan Orb and slipped it into a pocket, just in case. It was a reassuring weight as he looked at himself in the mirror.

“Leave me,” he ordered Abjörn. Tonight he had shed his usual ceremonial armour for something more form fitting and relaxed. He ran his fingers over his hair, making sure nothing was out of place, then examined his hands. If he looked long enough he could make out the various runes that were under his skin. He inhaled slowly and looked up at his face. In a few minutes he would be standing before Brokkr, whom he had just allowed to be tortured, before Frigga, whom he had banished from the palace after the festival, before Aetril, who knew he was not as in control as he pretended, and before Byleist, his half-brother who definitely suspected something about Loki now that he actually stopped to think about it and realise how dangerous that was.

Loki had to sit down before his legs gave out, breathing hard. This was meant to be his element, but he didn’t think he could face any of them, knowing that he was a walking explosion waiting to happen, knowing just how vulnerable he was. Would they notice the difference in him today? Would they find it suspicious? How was he meant to deal with each of these people when his head was all over the place?

He closed his eyes and tried to think. What could he do?

There was nothing to be done about Brokkr –Hel was taking care of him, although just what she would do to ensure his silence, Loki had no idea. Queen Aetril, well he would just have to charm her, and humbly accept her generous offer and do all he could to not look at Berach who no doubt knew all and would throw an insufferable smirk his way. As for Byleist, Loki had no idea what to do about him. He would just have to think on his feet, because he was out of time. Sigyn’s display would start as soon as the sun was gone and he would not be late for it.  He drew himself up and got to his feet. He could do this. He was Loki Silvertongue, and he was Odinson still, king of Asgard and husband of Sigyn. He could do this.

The guests were all waiting for him in the palace atrium, being attending by Frigga, Sverrir and some servants. Striding up to them, Loki gave them his best smile,

“Good evening my friends, I trust you are all well rested and looking forward to tonight’s spectacle.”

As one they all looked at him with some surprise, Aetril’s lips quirking in a curious smile, Byleist’s eyes narrowing in suspicion and Sina and Cadoc looked at him with slightly tilted heads. Frigga just looked alarmed. Loki did not let his smile slip.

“Everything is prepared your majesty,” said Sverrir quickly, gesturing to a serving girl who stepped forward with a tray of cups, “The princess has asked that you all drink this, it is a special brew from Vanaheim.”

Loki recognised the smell and picked it up at once, as did Aetril and Berach. Cadoc, Byleist and Sina hesitated as Loki realised Brokkr was not among them. What was Hel doing to him?

“What is it?” asked Byleist.

“It is a brew to relax the mind and excite the body,” said Sverrir with a wicked grin. “The perfect thing before what we are about to enjoy.”

“It will not kill you,” said Berach softly, his sharp eyes fixed on Cadoc.

“I would never imagine the darling princess would conceive of such a thing,” said Cadoc sharply, grabbing his own cup. Sverrir picked up a cup and offered it to Byleist,

“Your highness, the princess ordered yours be cooled to a more palatable temperature.”

Byleist extended a large hand and accepted the cup, “Is that why she queried me about Frost Giant eating habits?”

Loki smirked, “Possibly, but she’s innately curious about everything, she would have asked anyway.”

“I’m starting to see that,” said Byleist, looking hard at Loki again. Loki tried to remember if he had said two words to Byleist properly in all the time he had been here. That would have to be remedied.

“Shall we go?” asked Cadoc, after downing his drink. He already looked a little flushed, his eyes dropping to Aetril’s pert little breasts that strained against her dress. Now that he saw them, Loki was having trouble not looking himself as he held the still full cup in his hand. Was it safe to drink this after everything? He decided not and ran his thumb over the rim of the cup, sending its contents away into the nearest river.

“We cannot leave yet,” said Aetril with her usual bright smile, “Dear Brokkr is not yet among us.”

“Where is the dwarf?” asked Sina, pointedly standing away from Byleist as best he could without being out of the group. Loki glanced at his mother who was standing demurely at his shoulder, she gave him a tiny shrug.

“Perhaps someone should go and find him,” he said, knowing there was nothing else he could say. Sverrir instantly ordered a nearby servant to do so.

“Your majesty, I could bring the Ambassador to the field when he is found, if you wish to proceed without him?” said Sverrir as the servant hurried away. Loki spread his hands to his guests,

“What think you?”

“It would be impolite not to wait,” said Aetril, her pale eyes fixed on Loki’s face.

“He’s already impolite for being late,” said Sina shortly. Loki chuckled,

“Excellent points, and they put us at a standstill. Stay or go?”

“I believe it is your decision your majesty,” said Berach, pulling at his open front shirt so it sat better on his shoulders. Loki inhaled, trying to decide which was the smarter move, when shuffling footsteps made them all look around.

“Brokkr!” cried Aetril as the dwarf lumbered up to them, “You’re grey as stone, are you alright?”

The usual red and tanned dwarf was as grey as a goose, his face was drawn and his eyes were sunken in. What in the name of the Yggdrasil had Hel done to him?

“Yes good Brokkr,” said Loki in as concerned a voice as he could manage, “You look positively ill. Are you sure you are up for this final night of festivities. I would hate for you to put yourself out, if you are unwell.”

Brokkr’s eyes flicked up to Loki and it was impossible to miss the absolute terror in them. It went beyond what Frigga had done to him. Brokkr had seen something that had absolutely shattered him.

“I… I am a touch ill your majesty. But I would not miss this night for anything but… but death herself.”

Loki smiled and clapped the dwarf on his shoulder, “I am glad to hear it. The princess would be very sad if you missed tonight.” He gave a bright smile to everyone, which clearly confused them, “Shall we?”

As he led the way, he beckoned to Sverrir and muttered in his ear,

“How bad have I been the past few days?”

Sverrir inhaled and paused before answering, “It… there will have to be some damage control.”

Loki sighed, “Fantastic.”


	50. The Sex Goddess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Day of Consummation reminds Loki of what he stands to lose if he does not fight for his wife.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a warning guys, this chapter contains more explicit scenes sex scenes than I've really done so far -it also includes some transsexual and sexual orientation elements (although I'm reluctant to call them that due to how I depict them, I don't know if they would truly be counted) as well as issues dealing with the after effects of rape. All of it is in italics, denoting memories, so if you'd rather skip them, you can, but given their purpose you might miss some of the point of this chapter.

The air in the field was heavy with sweet and intoxicating scents, large, shallow bowls of oil spread out across the grass waiting to be lit. Streams of silk wafted in the air around the boarder, more on poles hammered into the ground above everyone’s heads. Under Loki’s feet were buds of yellow flowers, sprinkled over the grass from one end to the other. He stepped carefully to avoid crushing them as he looked over the crowds of people making their way back towards the stage for the final night. All the children were gone, leaving only men and women, some in couples, others in groups, a few alone, sauntering to the central focus. Fountains had been erected, and were spouting more of the Vanirian drink, which people were playfully catching in cupped hands and drinking from as it trickled through their fingertips. In the softening glow of sunset, everything was dim and alluring, every face was beautiful and desirable.

“My…” sighed Aetril dreamily, “Such an enticing set up.”

Loki smirked slightly, reminding himself that everyone around him, save his mother now, thought of Sigyn as a clueless virgin, who would need teaching in the ways of sexuality and desire. Even when she had been a virgin, Sigyn had understood sex like no one else Loki had ever known. Every step forward they had made in their physical relationship had been Sigyn leading Loki, guiding him, waiting for him. Sigyn might not know politics instinctively, and she might not be as naturally talented as Loki at wielding seiðr, but sex was something she understood absolutely. Loki had thought it a Vanirian trait, but having seen other Vanir women and men over the years, such as when Thor dragged him to what he called their ‘free brothels’ but were really places men and women went to for sexual fun, he knew that Sigyn was unique in her absolute understanding and love of sex and the emotions involved.

It made the fact that she had denied herself for forty years waiting for Loki to be ready all the more touching.

Loki’s smile slipped as he looked at the stage, wondering if Sigyn would believe him if he went to her now and said he was himself again. No, she probably wouldn’t. Loki would have to prove it to her, somehow, and until then he would have to sit and watch her, guilt heavy in his stomach.

The seats Loki had had crafted for his guests were gone, replaced with high and wide seats that were well spaced apart. The arms and wings of the chairs provided some privacy from every side, save for the front, but no one would be looking at them. They were deep, soft alcoves and Loki relaxed into his with a sense that he was sliding into a world all his own. He could not see his guests without half climbing out to peer around but he could hear Aetril’s laugh of delight, followed by Cadoc’s cackle of amusement. Cups of water and wine were nestled into holders in the side of the chair, just within reach of his hands. Loki hummed in amusement and sat back, peering at the stage curiously. It was dark at the moment, but no doubt would light up as soon as the sun’s light was completely gone.

As Loki settled himself in the deep seat, he slipped his hand into his pocket and squeezed his fingers around the Crochan Orb. He wondered if he would be able to get more from the Dökkálfar in a trade. He had no idea how often he would need to use it, or how long it would take to reverse the process, he would need more.

An expectant hush fell over the field as the sun’s tip vanished beneath the horizon. Darkness engulfed the field and they waited. Loki licked his lips nervously and could hear his heartbeat loud in his ears. As he stared into the darkness, the beat seemed to get louder, and he realised it wasn’t his heart, it was drumming. Slow, loud drumming coming from a distance. As it came closer, it grew louder and faster, and Loki could feel his heart starting to pump in time with it, forcing his breathing to pick up as the drumming filled the field.

Fire erupted in the centre of the stage and Loki jumped. Ten young men, with broad, bare chests knelt on the stage, holding a torch each, their heads bowed. The drumming _ratatatted_ and their heads snapped up. They leapt to their feet and bounded into the crowd in time with the beat, lighting the shallow bowls of oil as they passed them, filling the area with soft light and warm air. By the time they reached the other side the air was thick with a scent that made Loki’s head spin and a soothing buzz flow through his veins. A lazy grin spread across his face, he knew that pungent scent.

The men stood in a semicircle along the border of the field and held their torches aloft. A loud tapping filled the field, then one of the men let out an unintelligible cry and the torches’ flames shot upwards into huge columns of fire, which arched across the sky and landed on the stage, merging and swirling into a cyclone of heat. The tapping continued as the cyclone twisted, writhed, then bent inwards, shrinking down to the size of a person, and dispersed into nothing, revealing a single figure shrouded in black.

Only their hands, feet and eyes were visible among the black material as they stood in the centre of the stage, arms aloft and head turned to the side. Loki’s breath caught in his chest as she turned her head sharply in time with a tinkling of bells, and her eyes opened to look straight at him. With her hair and face hidden behind a black veil, Sigyn stretched her arms outwards, as if to embrace the crowd and soft, seductive flutes began to play. The black material was only just tight enough to hint at her curves, otherwise she could have been anyone as she began to sway her hips, rolled her hands around each other and bend her back in time with the inviting music. With a sweep of one hand, she drew from the left wing of the stage three more women in all black, with a sweep of the other came three more from the right. The Ey’s eyes were like sapphires against the black material as they moved in perfect time with Sigyn, soft lines and sweeping movements drawing the audience in as the music picked up very slightly. Sigyn ran her hands down her head, over her chest, her hips and her thighs, then seized the material with one hand and twirled on the spot. The black material pulled away, and disappeared into the delighted crowd, leaving Sigyn in a slightly shorter dress of dark blue. Her ankles and wrists were now visible, and Loki could see the tips of markings on her skin. He licked his lips again and rested one hand tentatively on his thigh, just below his hip.

_His tongue followed the marks on her skin, starting from the tips and working his way to her breasts, her stomach, and her sex. Sigyn was panting loudly and tugging desperately on the silken ropes he had used to tie her hands to his bedposts. Loki grinned against her skin as she let out a particularly loud moan and arched her back. Loki ignored her obvious request by lifting her thigh and taking his time tracing the intricate patterns painted on the soft inner skin._

The music was picking up and the dancing was matching the new tempo, with Sigyn and her Ey pulling off the dark blue dress to reveal their forearms and calves under a bright, royal purple dress. Their faces were still shrouded in black, but Loki never lost sight of Sigyn once, he knew her body too well. Her bare feet stamped on the ground as she moved, twisting and arching her body in time with the music. Loki bit his lip as she ripped off the purple dress, exposing her knees and bottom of her thighs and her elbows and bottoms of her upper arms, intricately painted with red-brown patterns that grew larger and more intricate as they worked their way up. Their new dress was red. Loki’s other hand rested on his other thigh, rubbing against the seam of his trousers a little. How far would the dresses rise?

_Loki loved that moment when he reached out and started to undo Sigyn’s clothes, unwrapping her from the dress that kept him from her skin. He always took his time, kissing and sucking on each piece of exposed skin, pushing Sigyn’s hands away when she tried to undress him. He wanted his time, he wanted his prideful moments where he marked every part of her as his with his lips, his tongue and his teeth. No one else would touch her like he could. He would slid his hands under her skirts and unlace her underwear, dragging it down her thighs, pushing her onto her back on the bed so he could drag the underwear away. She would laugh and lie back, skirts bunched against her spread legs, lifting her head to smile at him, inviting him to come back to her, when he had taken a moment to enjoy the view._

The dresses went through green, then yellow. Sigyn stamped on the ground then stepped forward, her foot landing on air and remaining there. With frenetic energy, Sigyn and the Ey started to dance into the air, arching over the crowd, moving too fast for even the sneakiest youth to peek up the skirts. They ascended, then descended until they jumped and landed in a crouch on the royal plinth. Loki inhaled sharply as Sigyn landed so close she brushed his knees. After a moment, Sigyn lifted her head with all the regal air of a princess and her eyes sent a bolt of heat through him. The music lifted once more, soft, and gentle, and Sigyn rose to her feet. Behind the veil Loki knew she was smirking as she reached down and pulled at one of the laces holding her dress closed. Loki’s eyes bugged out as she tugged at the dress, opening it a little. He could hear Cadoc and Aetril make soft noises of delight as the Ey did the same.

Sigyn’s eyes never left Loki’s as she pulled the next lace, and Loki shivered, wishing he could speak. The final lace was pulled and Sigyn swayed her hips as she turned on the spot, pulling the dress off slowly, giving Loki a perfect view of her shoulders and back as the dress slipped off and revealed a final dress, of gauzy white, through which he could see the flowers and animals and swirls of her tattoos. The yellow dress slipped lower and the white material was arranged just so, so that Sigyn’s breasts and hips were concealed under thicker layers of white, but the rest of her skin was visible through a shimmering layer of gauze.

_“You like them, don’t you?” she laughed as Loki played with her breasts. They were in a bath in le château de Versailles, as guests of le Roi Louis le bien aimé. “You can’t leave them alone.”_

_“How can I not like them? They are beautiful, and when I play with them, you make such lovely little noises.” To prove his point, he gave a little squeeze and she hummed quietly, arching her back against him. “They fit in my hands so well, like my hands were grown to hold them,” he murmured into her neck, “It makes me believe we are built to fit each other.”_

_“Do we not mould ourselves to fit each other?” she giggled, squirming against him. “Can I not shift my shape to accommodate you? We make ourselves fit because we wish to fit together.”_

_“Ah, but does it not say something that we fit perfectly without alteration?” he purred, moving one hand to push her chin up, giving him better access to her neck._  

Loki could barely hear the music anymore, not with his own heartbeat so loud in his ears, as the yellow dress pooled at her bare feet, releasing more white that tumbled down over her legs. Sigyn turned to face him again and Loki wanted to rip that veil off, he had to see her face. As if reading his mind, Sigyn twisted her legs and dropped into the deepest curtsy Loki had ever seen, dipping her head forward and exposing the tie that held the veil in place. Loki inhaled slowly, he could feel the others waiting for him to act, they would not remove their dancer’s veil until he did. Mouth going dry, Loki reached out and pulled the tie loose. Sigyn looked up at him as the veil fell away, her eyes burning into him as Loki pulled the veil away completely. Her cream-coloured hair tumbled down her back and Loki reached out a slightly shaking hand to loosen it fully. It was soft and thick between his fingers as he pulled it forward over her shoulder, eyes fixed on her face.

The markings did not climb up to her neck, and her face was not painted, yet her skin seemed to glow like sunlight shining through honey. Loki reached up and caressed her cheek with his thumb. His fingertips sparked with magic and Sigyn blinked, which was just enough to make him remember himself. He crooked his fingers under her chin and pushed gently to get her to stand, half rising as if he expected to dance with her. Sigyn touched his lips with a finger and smiled, pushing him back into his chair. Sigyn started to sway slightly, her fingertip trailing down his lips and over his chin before retreating, and as she stepped backwards, her foot resting on air like it was solid, she began to sing. Her voice was low, deep and warm as she slowly pulled away from him, never breaking her gaze from his. Her bare feet stepped onto air as if it were solid as she swayed away from him.  The Ey followed her back over the heads of the crowd, an invisible bridge carrying them back to the stage where they swayed and brushed their hands over their own faces, their own bodies. Sigyn had never looked as otherworldly as she did right there in Loki’s eyes, and he was transfixed. The black veil was clenched in his right hand.

_Loki kissed her desperately, his hands groping at her body, her dress, trying to get at her. He had to do this, he had to._

_“Hmmm, Loki, slow down,” she sighed, pushing him back._

_“I don’t want to,” snapped Loki, pulling at her skirts. “I want to –want to-”_

_“Loki, I don’t think you want this,” she said gently, hands stroking his shoulders._

_“Of course I do! How could I not?” Loki demanded, face burning as her hand slid down his chest, over his stomach to cup him between the legs._

_“Your cock would disagree,” she said bluntly, releasing him and sitting up, forcing him to sit back. “Loki, I will not lie with someone who must force themselves into it.”_

_“I can do it! I just… I just need a minute,” said Loki desperately, trying to think arousing thoughts. After a few moments Sigyn sighed and took his hand. She lifted it up and brought it down to his own crotch. Loki snatched his hand away. “What are you doing?”_

_“When was the last time you touched yourself?” asked Sigyn, narrow-eyed as she watched him. Loki flushed and shrugged,_

_“I don’t do that. It’s demeaning for a man to do so, when he should have a woman to do it for him.”_

_“I am not your masturbation toy Loki!” snapped Sigyn, making him shrink back._

_“I didn’t mean it like that.”_

_Sigyn sighed and shifted closer, resting her hand on his shoulder, pressing into his side, “I know, but you need to understand, I will not lie with someone who cannot enjoy his own body.”_

_“But-”_

_Sigyn shushed him and pressed her fingers to his lips. “I know you feel your body betrayed you, I know you resent it for reacting to her touch, but it’s been twenty years. You need to take it back.”_

_Loki looked away, humiliated. Sigyn smiled and pressed her lips to his, gentle and soft. When she pulled back she said softly, “Let me show you.”_

_Loki frowned in confusion, then his mouth went dry as Sigyn lay back on his pillows and slipped her hand under her skirts. Her eyelashes fluttered and she dropped her head back as she sighed with pleasure._

Loki swallowed dryly, reaching for some water as his other hand edged closer to his growing arousal. He could not take his eyes off his wife. There was unmistakable delight in Sigyn’s eyes as she caressed her own body, running her fingers through her hair as she tipped her head back, the light catching on her throat. She seemed utterly caught up in her own touch and her singing, like she was seducing herself. Her hands had no boundaries, they were everywhere, but never stayed long enough to cross a line of Aesir propriety.  

Cadoc moaned, “Even Vanaheim’s only virgin is a sexual fiend.”

Loki hiccupped as a bark of laughter tried to escape him, and he barely held it down. He covered his mouth for a moment, then bit on his thumb. It didn’t stop his other hand from finally resting on his arousal and causing him to let out a strangled sound. It seemed to go on forever, this slow beginning, wherein Sigyn was swaying her hips, tugging at her dress, running her hands over her bare skin, her lips, her throat. Loki’s mouth was dry as sand as he wondered how he was supposed to sit through this for the whole night, with this guilt over his behaviour clashing with his desire. He wanted to spring across the field and pounce on her, drag her away and ravish her until she swore she was his and no one else’s –not even for his own sake would she cease to be his.

_It was warm in the New York evening as they kissed fervently in a dark alley not a block from the Savoy, excited and giggly from winning the dancing contest._

_“Mmm, Captain Skywalker!” laughed Sigyn as Loki ripped the front of her dress open. Midgardian clothes were too fragile. “Is this really the appropriate way to consummate our marriage? In a dark alley, where anyone might see us?”_

_Loki snorted as she helped him out of his uniform jacket, “Well, Mrs Skywalker, by New York Law I believe you are mine absolutely, so-”_

_He grabbed the backs of her thighs and lifted her up, pressing her into the wall and nuzzling her neck, “I believe I can do what I like.”_

_Sigyn moaned as he sucked on the spot just under her ear. “Oh, really? So I’m your property now am I?”_

_“Mmmhm!” Loki grinned wolfishly against her skin when she tugged at his hair._

_“And what if I want something? Would I need to ask your permission?”_

_“Depends on what it is I suppose,” said Loki chivalrously. Sigyn pulled hard on his hair and made him look into her gleaming eyes._

_“So, what if I told you I think we ought to have brought Captain America into our little celebration?”_

_Loki narrowed his eyes, even as his arousal gave an interested twitch. “That big blonde boy?”_

_“Oh he looked all man to me,” said Sigyn, reaching between them to undo Loki’s belt. “All that muscle, that strong jaw –and those pretty eyes.”_

_A tinge of jealousy reared up as Loki shifted her weight to one hand, his free one ripping her underwear to pieces as she undid his zipper. “You’d like to be taken by him? To spread your legs for him?”_

_“Wouldn’t you like to see that?” she hummed, “Wouldn’t you like to watch his firm backside clench in time with my cries of pleasure as he filled me? Or better yet, you could take him while he takes me, and you could –ah! –set the pace for both of us.”_

_Loki curled his fingers around her neck, kissing her possessively, biting at her lips. “You think I would let some common soldier have you?” he demanded heavily, “No, I would rather you bring him to his knees, begging to be taken by you. And when you did, I’d smother his cries with my own desire, right down his throat!”_

_Sigyn’s hand flexed and she dug her fingertips into his shoulder blade as they moved together. “Poor little mortal, didn’t you see his innocent smile? If he saw me grow a cock he’d probably faint.”_

_“Then you’d just have to find someone else to fill,” panted Loki. Sigyn dragged his face against hers,_

_“Like you? Do you want me to fill you next?”_

_Loki’s only answer was a shuddering moan._

The male dancers emerged, each one put their arm around each woman’s waist. The man touching Sigyn looked undeniably like Loki, tall, slim and dark haired. He ran his hand down her arm, then lifted it up above her head, dipping her slowly. Sigyn leant into his hold with complete ease and then she and the other women let the men guide them in a slow waltz around the stage. Sigyn’s singing, backed up by the Ey continued, lulling everyone into a relaxed and aroused state, even in the darkness, Loki could see couples already embracing. That was why this part was done at night, to give the illusion of privacy for couples.

Loki’s hand was moving in slow circles as he tried to breathe slowly, mouth hanging slightly open. It had been so long since he had had sex, so long since he had crushed his body against Sigyn’s and they had driven each other to ecstasy.

Sigyn turned in her partner’s arms and pressed back against him, hand cupping his face as she swayed her hips against his. Loki hated that man. Sigyn leaned back and her partner lifted her up onto his shoulder, spinning around and then Sigyn swung her legs, hooking them over and around his shoulders and arching her back as he continued to spin. If he dropped her Loki would kill him.  

The partner unwound her from his shoulders and gracefully set her upon the pedestal, earning a smile full of promise as he sank to one knee before her. The music faded away and the crowd began to cheer, clapping with delight as Sigyn smiled and dipped her head to them, followed by the Ey. The men disappeared and Sigyn lifted her head, with a grin promising only more delights. Loki’s trousers were starting to grow uncomfortable and he sighed to himself. This part of the festival would last until just before sunrise, and if that was the opening… the Norns only knew what Sigyn had planned for the climax.

Still he could not fault the results, Sigyn had everyone’s attention fixed upon her.

_“I never imagined you liked drawing,” Sigyn giggled, lying on Loki’s bed and peering at him over her bare shoulder. “Seems… unprincely for Asgard.”_

_Loki smirked, “Thank my mother, she insisted that her sons have some Vanir qualities. Thor’s quite adept at it.”_

_“Thor? Big hands, little patience, prefers a hammer to a sword?”_

_“Is there any other?” asked Loki, pausing in his sketching to look at Sigyn. She was on her front, angled away from him so he could see her buttocks, with her knees bent and her ankles locked together. Her skin had a gleam of sweat and her hair was tousled from earlier when Loki had made love to her. Loki rarely felt the urge to draw, but this seemed like a moment he would want to remember._

_“What does he draw?”_

_“His friends, his family. People he meets on quests. He likes faces.”_

_“And what do you like?” purred Sigyn, bending her neck to smile at him playfully. Loki looked down at his half-done sketch, then stood up and went to the bed. Sigyn sat up on her knees, watching him. Loki squeezed the sketch book, then held it out to her. Sigyn took it and turned the pages. Loki looked at the wall as he listened to the paper rustling. Every picture he had drawn was of her, her smile, her eyes, her hands, her lips, her face, her body, naked or dressed, playful or serious._

_“Is this what you see when you see me?” she asked quietly. Loki nodded, finally daring to look at her. She seemed oddly sober, looking through the pictures once more before meeting his eyes. “I like how I look through your eyes.”_

_Loki smiled as she reached up and cupped his cheek, kissing him tenderly. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her into his lap, holding her close._

The next was a group song by the Ey, with Sigyn dancing at a furious pace with fire licking her skin like a lover. Her flushed face and rolling hips were all Loki could see he struggled to keep himself still. One of the Ey grabbed Sigyn’s hair from behind and pulled their bodies together, licking a strip up her neck. Sigyn’s grin was debauched and Loki’s mouth fell open in a silent moan. Now she was just being unfair! Sparks of magic burned at his fingertips and he hissed, squeezing the Crochan Orb and pumping some more seiðr into it. It took his mind off his arousal for a moment, but then it came back with a fury of need.

_“Look in the mirror Loki!”_

_Loki moaned helplessly, pushing his hips in a frantic rhythm. Sigyn’s breathing was loud in his ear as she pulled on his hair._

_“Look in the mirror Loki!”_

_Loki yelped as a particular thrust made him see stars and his head snapped up. He locked eyes with his own reflection and moaned helplessly at what he saw. Himself on his hands and knees, with Sigyn behind him, her soft curves exchanged for sharp lines, her angular face tense with effort as she gripped his hips and rocked forwards, forcing more noises out of Loki’s mouth._

_There was a tiny part of him that was horrified at this, but it was smothered with lust and excitement and delight as Sigyn hooked her muscled arms under his and dragged him backwards so he was seated on her lap._

_“Look at yourself Loki, my man, mine!” she growled into his ear. “Brilliant, and beautiful, more of a man than any other Asgardian.”_

_“More of a man than you right now?” Loki laughed, rolling his head on his neck to try and kiss her, cackling when stubble on her cheeks burned him. “This is insanity!”_

_“This. Is. US!” Sigyn let out a bellow of a roar as she climaxed and Loki shuddered, following her at the disturbingly warm sensation of being filled. By the time Sigyn let him go she was laughing, letting him roll onto his back and cuddling up to him like she always did, even though now she was wider, taller and thicker than him. Still Loki kissed her brow and held her close, playing with her hair._

_“Hmmm… it is different as a man,” she chuckled, “It feels… well it feels like I really did conquer you. I wanted to crush you, own you, make you mine.”_

_Loki chuckled, “See, I told you it wasn’t just nonsense spouted by tiny cocked men.”_

_“I never said it wasn’t nonsense… but it was fun.”_

_Loki could sense her seiðr changing her back to her softer, female self as she propped herself up on her forearm, grinning down at him. “Maybe next time you could be the one who changes, and I’ll show you how we fit that way.”_

_“We’ve already done that,” said Loki with a smile._

_“No, that time I was trying to make you see that you have a freedom few have. Few seiðr wielders can change their shape, let alone their sex, and you were so terrified of being ‘unmanned’ that you were afraid to try.”_

_“You did promise it would be fun,” said Loki softly, linking fingers with her on his chest._

_“And have I ever been wrong?”_

_“About sex? Rarely.”_

_Sigyn’s smile was soft, matching her voice as she said, “You know I will never ask for something from you unless I think you’ll enjoy it. And if you really don’t want to all you have to do is say no.”_

_Loki nodded, bringing her hand up to kiss, “I know.”_

_“And just think, if you become comfortable enough with it –maybe next time we go to Midgard, I could be the man and you can wear the corset.”_

Sigyn’s show drove the crowd wild, bringing them up with fast paced drums that echoed their heartbeats and then soothing them down with ballads and slow dances that pulled them back in. Like waves on a shore the people rose and fell to the pull of Sigyn, her Ey and her male dancers. She always danced with the same man in her solos, sometimes so close and so intimately it seemed perverse, but something would always interrupt before it went too far. The people of Asgard were absolutely enamoured with her. Pride filled Loki’s chest as he watched her. This was the Sigyn he knew and loved, the one full of strength and excitement, not the quiet, nervous creature he had been dealing with since the Ostara Festival started, who was trying so hard to please.

The night rolled on and the air was full of music, sweet scents, and gasping moans from the crowd. Loki’s hand squeezed and rubbed almost torturously. He didn’t feel right finishing like this. Finally the sky began to lighten, and the stage was flooded with golden light, drawing the eye back to Sigyn for her final display. Her skin was now covered in gold-leaf patterns, with golden flower buds in her hair, as the dancing sped up on the stage. Sigyn was moving so fast she was a golden blur. The sky continued to lighten and on the stage, a giant flower bud rose up from the floor. Colours cut across the sky, fire spinners and water weavers surrounded the field of onlookers, a golden haze that smelled like Idunn’s life blessing apples filled the air. It was like something from a dream as the music grew louder and louder, the laughter and cries of delight mingled with it into a resounding din, and the dancers surrounded the giant flower bud –Loki had lost track of Sigyn, he could not find her in the writhing mass of flesh –the drums pounded like a heartbeat, faster and faster and faster –

Everything stopped. The dancers froze, the music cut off… even the air seemed to still. Then a soft, almost mournful, sound carried to every ear and the tip of the sun appeared over the horizon, the flower bud began to open and a soft sigh released everyone into a heap of satisfaction. Across the field the flower buds on the grass burst open with a sweet scent that made their heads spin anew.

Except Loki, he could hardly breathe as the flower burst open and Sigyn stood up from its centre, the flowers in her hair opening as she threw her arms into the air and cried,

“Life has begun anew! May all the blessings of Ostara fall upon you!”

Loki’s vision went white and he bit his lower lip hard enough to draw blood as his hips twitched in his throne. The crowd went wild, screaming their praises to Sigyn as she stood like a goddess above them, arms outstretched, beaming and her chest heaving with effort as she looked around at all of them. Loki let out a trembling breath, his cheeks flooding with colour as he felt the stickiness of his underwear. Sigyn had just made him climax in his trousers like an inexperienced youth. Humiliation crashed over him and he wiped at his mouth with the back of his shaking hand.  

Loki looked back at the stage, and found Sigyn looking straight at him, almost defiant as she waited for him to react. Loki inhaled and stood up, hiding a grimace at the unpleasant sensation, and started to applaud. The other delegates joined in as the crowd continued to cheer. Sigyn lowered her head and dipped her body in a curtsy, rising and holding up a hand.

“Conception is at hand,” she cried over the din, “When the sun has fully risen, the Ostara festival will have ended. But Asgard, you have so much more to celebrate, for today you also celebrate the beginning of a new age, with a new king.”

Loki slowed his clapping, what was she doing? This wasn’t her duty. Sigyn extended her hand towards Loki,

“A just and fair king, one who would see you to new heights of power and might, and respect. A king who looks to the future and has the conviction to start anew with the Seven Realms, and fills us all, who are here as your most honoured guests, with a sense of hope that this will be the start of something great for all of us. Let us all honour his majesty, King Loki of Asgard!”

At once the crowd turned to Loki and started cheering for him, chanting his name. The warriors started banging their fists against their chests, a resounding drumbeat that shook Loki to the core. He listened for a moment in awe, then he smirked and extended his arms, calling his armour, his helmet and Gungnir to him. Cloaked in the garb of his kingship once more, Loki lifted Gungnir and sent a charge of magic straight up into the sky,

“FOR ASGARD!” he cried, as a rainbow of colours charged across the sky, flooding every corner of it.

“Asgard! Asgard! Asgard!” chanted the people, throwing their fists in the air in time with the chant.

“Let the coronation celebration begin!” Loki barked, feeling elated as he sent a final fireworks display into the sky, forming Odin’s symbol with melted into Loki’s horns. The chanting dissolved into cries of delight and Loki lowered Gungnir and took his leave of the crowd. He glanced over at the stage, but Sigyn was gone.

_Sigyn slept in his bed, exhaustion making her face drawn and her arm reaching for him. Loki had left the bed to look out the window at the moon, knowing Thor and his cronies were out in a brothel, or a tavern, which at this time of night amounted to the same thing. He wondered if the whores of Asgard did things to Thor that the princess of Vanaheim did to Loki. He doubted it, Thor would never even think of letting himself be taken by another man, or a woman who could shape shift into one. Thor would never trade his manhood for soft folds and plump breasts._

_Loki looked back at the bed, the moonlight made Sigyn’s skin look snow white, her hair ice blue. The sheets were bundled at her feet, leaving her naked body exposed to him. It made him recall the day she had kissed him, her dress torn to shreds by Sif, her soft breasts pressing against his chest. It made him think of how that had been a game for her, how for those very early years it had been about lust and rebellious mischief, not love. Love had come much later, after Angrboda, after Fenrir. Those experiences had fused them together, in friendship, but not in love, not like they had now. That had been a carefully cultivated thing, like a precious plant, which had been nurtured into the passionate union it was now._

_Loki smiled as he walked back to the bed and climbed next to her, wrapping his arms around her. Thor could keep his whores and cronies. Loki had Sigyn, now and forever._  

His trousers were still sticky.


	51. Loki's Coronation Celebration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki's coronation goes about as well as can be expected... with a few surprises in the midst.

“Do you swear to guard the Nine Realms?

“I swear.”

“Do you swear to preserve the peace?”

“I swear.”

“Do you swear to cast aside all selfish ambition and pledge yourself only to the good of all the Realms?”

“I swear!”

“Then I, Frigga All-Mother, as the Queen of Asgard, your mother, and wife of Odin All-Father, do proclaim you King of Asgard, the Realm Eternal.”

There was no mention of a time limit, no words added to warn that it might not be permanent. It was the same oath Odin had made, that Thor had almost made, that every king of Asgard since before Asgard was Asgard had made. The only difference was that Loki already sat upon the throne as he spoke, looking down at his mother as she stood to his right, looking up at him.

It was a formality, unnecessary in reality, but so very important to the people, so Loki had agreed to do it. He had never imagined he would do it with still uncomfortable trousers (although he had cleaned the mess with seiðr as best he could, cleaning spells were not something he did often), under the gaze of Frost Giant, Dökkálfar, Ljósálfar, Dvergar, Demon and Vanir. The delegates all applauded politely as the rest of the gathered people cheered with open delight. Frigga’s handmaidens were especially enthusiastic, it seemed Loki’s gentle handling of Hlin had earned him many affirmations from them.

Loki’s eyes looked down at Sigyn and he hid a frown at how she was looking at the floor instead of at him. Could she not even enjoy his great moment for him? Hiding his dismay, Loki rose to his feet and let Gungnir ring out to call for silence.

“I am honoured to be the king of such a fine realm,” he said, “And I will never forget my brother and my father, whom both lay claim to this great seat, and who have taught me so much in the ways of kingship. A day will come, when they shall return to us, and I will return once more to my place as your prince. Until that day however, I shall rule you with nothing but the intent to uphold my oaths, to better your lives and remain in fast friendship with our allies, represented here by our esteemed guests.”

The delegates all bowed, Aetril smiling at something as she looked up at him.

“I cannot say what the future will bring for any of us, but for today, I say, let us all eat, drink and be merry!”

The crowd cheered as an army of servants appeared from seemingly nowhere, laden with food and drink. The lines of people broke up as music started to play and they began to dance, mingle and sit down. The delegates were given their own seats, near Loki, who sat down on Hlidskialf and surveyed his court. His eyes fell upon Sigyn again and saw she had her ‘princess smile’ on. On her left was Byleist, looming and dark, while Brokkr was next to her, pale and ill looking –was that ever a terrible seating arrangement. Aetril was chatting to Sina happily as Byleist bent his neck to say something to Sigyn which made her jump and let out a startled giggle. Loki narrowed his eyes, wondering what he was saying. What would a Frost Giant have to say that was so funny?

**~*~**

Sigyn stared out at the crowd without seeing it. Her feet were sore from the hours of dancing, her muscles were tired and yet she had to stay upright and smile. As everyone started enjoying this final celebration, she felt extremely deflated. How quickly these Aesir forgot what they had just seen. It was almost like she had never danced for them, had never tried to win their hearts by dancing herself to exhaustion.

When she had stood before them all at the end, they had been almost hysterical for her, but she had made the choice to deflect their adoration onto Loki before anyone had time to rethink their opinion and decide that, actually, they thought her behaviour had been whorish by their exacting standards. It had been safer, she thought, but it still stung. Now she had to sit next to Brokkr, who looked like a corpse and try to suppress any feeling of guilt that tried to well up inside her. He had deserved to be punished for what he did to Fenrir. He did! He really did.

“Why do you keep those teats of yours covered?”

Sigyn nearly fell out of her chair in surprise, a yelp of shocked laughter escaping her as she looked up into Byleist’s eyes.

“I… I beg your pardon?”

“That is what they are, aren’t they?” Byleist asked, gesturing with a large finger, “You seemed to go out of your way to keep them covered when you danced, yet the males did not.”

“Men don’t have teats,” said Sigyn, hardly believing they were talking about this.

“I saw them, those dark little points on their chests,” said Byleist with a stubborn tone that was frighteningly like Loki. “And I saw them on the females of the Aesir in the field.”

“Oh! You mean… well, yes, both of us have nipples, but… well, there is an attitude among the Aesir and others that women’s are private, and men’s are not.”

“Why?”

“Well, a woman’s are used to feed her child, men’s don’t really do anything.”

“They are vestigial?”

“Exactly –although they are sources of pleasure in sex.”

“Hmm… strange,” said Byleist. Sigyn hesitated, then leaned forward, propping her chin up in her hand,

“So tell me, how do your kind feed their young, if not by breast?”

“Our mothers have teats, but they form only as needed, and can form in different parts of the body, depending on where the young is.”

“So… a mother can grow a teat on her back if the child is being carried there?”

Byleist nodded, “To have them constantly is… strange.”

“So, they aren’t pleasure sources for you?”

“I do not have, nor shall ever have teats,” growled Byleist.

“Of course. So, you do have males and females then? I remember hearing a rumour that you don’t. I never believed it as such, but I did not want to assume you were so like the Vanir, because that would be just as rude.”

“We have males and females, yes,” said Byleist.

That was helpful, thought Sigyn, it had been one of her worries that Loki’s Frost Giant form might be more unusual in that area, which she knew, given Loki had grown up in men’s men’s Asgard, would easily have tipped him over the edge in a full blown rage at his father’s blood.

“I had heard that Frost Giants could mate with other species quite easily,” she said as breezily as she could. “Is there something about your blood that makes it so? How… how would it be done, given you are so much larger than the rest of us?”

Byleist gave her a narrow eyed look and said “We males can be as endowed as we need to be, by will. It depends on how much our mate would need to be satisfied.”

Sigyn could not keep the gleam of fascination out of her face. She definitely liked the sound of that. Her smile slipped away as she remembered she might never get the chance to experience such a thing first hand. She had put it from her mind for the dancing, letting herself become aroused and excited, thinking about Loki’s hands on her, his body pressing against hers, their hips moving together. Now though she was tired, aroused, and her heart was actually hurting in her chest as she replayed their last conversation over and over.

“Sounds useful,” she said to Byleist, “Have you ever known a Frost Giant hybrid child?”

“I know of one,” said Byleist lowly, “But I know not if he lives or not.”

His blood red eyes flicked to Loki and Sigyn felt her blood run cold. Before she could say more, a voice cut across them.

“Excuse me, while I’m certain you’re quite tired princess, I would very much appreciate a dance with you.”

Sigyn looked up at Cadoc who gave her a smile and held his hand out. “I would be honoured to be able to say that I danced with the beautiful princess of Vanaheim.”

Although there was nothing she wanted less in that moment, Sigyn took his hand, hating the blush of pleasure that flooded her cheeks at his compliment.

“I’d be happy to, if the prince will forgive me.” She gave Byleist a smile and he shrugged.

“If you agree to come back and let me query you in turn.”

“Of course,” She laughed to cover up the wince of pain as she got to her feet. Cadoc led her to the dance floor and rested one hand on the small of her back, which was bare because she was back in her short purple top and skirt. They started to waltz around the room in time with everyone else, much to Sigyn’s surprise,

“I would never have imagined you would know Asgardian dances Ambassador,” she said, relaxing a little.

“Such things are useful to know your highness, when they allow me a moment with the future queen of Vanaheim,” said Cadoc with a charming smile. Sigyn forced herself to laugh,

“Was I really so unreachable that you had to stage this elaborate hoax to get me semi-alone?”

“You’ve been practically impossible your highness, what with that frost giant talking to you all the time,” said Cadoc, looking at Byleist over his shoulder. Sigyn narrowed her eyes as she looked too.

“I’ve enjoyed talking to him. I’m quite fascinated by the Jötun. In fact I would like to visit the planet someday,” she said stiffly.

“Your highness, my people have the ability to go from world to world in our own ways, and I can assure you, Jötunheim is nothing but a rock waiting to die.”

Sigyn gave him a stony look, “Perhaps we should change the subject ambassador.”

Cadoc’s smile slipped and he nodded, “Of course, as you wish. In fact, there was a matter I would like to discuss with you.”

“You’ve left it quite late,” said Sigyn curtly.

“My master asked me to wait until the festivities were near their end,” said Cadoc with a shrug.

“And what matter could wait until now?” Sigyn asked, stiffening her body as he lifted her briefly.

“Well, my master, Lord Malekith, has heard many wonderful things about your highness, and he would very much like to press his suit to you.”

Sigyn’s stomach jumped, but she did not lose her rhythm as she twisted at the waist, hooking her calf over Cadoc’s for a half beat and then twisting back into his arms.

“Lord Malekith wants to marry me,” she stated.

“Very much so,” said Cadoc with absolute sincerity. “My master thinks you and he would be an excellent match. He would treat you with nothing but the greatest respect and kindness.”

“I’m sure he would,” said Sigyn, glancing over to the throne. Loki was watching her from his throne. “Of course, it is really my parents who will decide my husband.”

“Perhaps you could lend your own support to the match.” Cadoc’s hand tightened around her, “I assure you your highness, you’ll never have a better husband than my master. Don’t you long to have your own throne?”

The question stung far more than she should have allowed. Wanting to end this conversation at once, she smiled at him, “Is it true, that when Dökkálfar children are born, your master orders that they have their wings ripped off, so they will never fly like a Ljósálfar?”

Cadoc’s smile vanished, “It is our custom, yes.”

“And why is that? Because you hate the Ljósálfar so much that you would mutilate your young to separate yourselves from them?” Sigyn’s smile sweetened, “And what would your master do, if he were to marry me? Would he command my armies to march on Ljósálfar? Everyone here knows that if Vanaheim were to form a true army we would outnumber all others.”

“I cannot predict what my master will do in the best interest of our people,” said Cadoc.

Sigyn gave a low laugh to cover her shiver of alarm and leaned into him, whispering in his ear, “I am no channel to a vast army Ambassador. That army is mine, and will remain mine, no matter my spouse. But if your master is certain he is capable of persuading me to invade Alfheim, he’s welcome to join the others who press their suit to me.”

Cadoc was pale under his paint, but before he could respond, Sigyn walked away, smiling at the nobles who parted for her to return to her seat.

“My apologies Prince Byleist,” she said as she slid into her seat, but her grace was tainted when her feet gave a sharp burn and she hissed. Byleist looked down at her as she tried to subtly slip her shoes off and rub her feet by tucking them under her like she was just curling like a regal cat.

“What’s wrong?” he asked her bluntly. Sigyn gave him a breezy smile, then her shoulders dropped when his expression did not change.

“My feet are burning, they were rubbed raw by my dancing.”

Byleist tilted his head, his eyes dropping to her feet with a faint air of fascination. Sigyn’s smile quirked up a little again,

“Do you want to look at them?”

Byleist nodded, reminding Sigyn of a child, his eyes fixed on her feet. Her smile widening, she uncurled her legs and bent her knees, twisting so Byleist could cup his hand around her feet. Sigyn’s mouth fell open in pleasure as the cold air emanating from his skin hit her skin.

“They are radiating heat, and seem red,” said Byleist, looking up and blinking at her expression, “Princess?”

Sigyn blushed, “I’m sorry, but all I’ve wanted to do since I finished dancing is stick my feet in ice water. The chill of your skin feels very good.”

Byleist cocked his head, then lowered his hand to the floor. Ice spread from his hand over the floor in front of Sigyn’s seat. Several Aesir started in alarm, but Sigyn laughed in delight, dropping her feet and humming in pleasure as she rested the soles of her feet on the thin ice.

“Oh… thank you Prince Byleist, this feels very good,” she sighed, tilting her head back and looking at him with a smile.

“Glad I could help,” he grunted. Sigyn slid her feet over the quickly melting ice, sighing as the cold chased away the burn of her feet. As the pain faded and she was able to sit up again, she looked up at Byleist with a smile,

“Prince Byleist, is there a law forbidding Vanaheim from sending ambassadors to your world?”

“… you share blood with Asgard.”

“Distant, and not well loved,” said Sigyn promptly.

“Don’t your father’s people wish to remain under Asgard’s rule?”

Sigyn tossed her head, “Hardly. The War was about so much more than that, but everyone reduces it down to that one thing, as if Asgard is the root of our desires and loathing. Vanaheim bore Asgard, Asgard did not bear Vanaheim.”

“Indeed?” said Byleist, lifting his chin.

“Of course, where do you think this land came from?”

“I had not cared for where it came from before, only that it stayed away from my home,” said Byleist.

“And Vanaheim?”

“Did you support Asgard in the war?”

“My people were too busy tearing each other apart to do anything about the war with Jötunheim. I must admit, I don’t even know why Laufey invaded Midgard to start with.”

Byleist narrowed his eyes, “The War was about so much more than that,” he parroted. Sigyn smirked.

“It always is. Still,” she looked at the throne, where Loki was speaking with Cadoc. “I know King Loki is not like Odin or Thor, he would rather bring about a peace that did not involve smashing each other to pieces.”

“I am not sure this showy display of Asgard’s arrogance, wealth and debauchery is the way to make that point.”

Sigyn allowed her smirk to widen, “Maybe not, but we’re all here, aren’t we?”

Byleist huffed in amusement.

**~*~**

Loki was burning with curiosity about what Cadoc and Sigyn had been saying to each other, but as he beckoned the ambassador over, he reminded himself it was not his place.

“Your majesty,” said Cadoc, bowing to him.

“Ambassador,” said Loki with a nod, “I wanted to extend to you my sincere hopes that your master and I can forge a new and better relationship than what he and my father had.”

Cadoc smiled, “Of course, my master wishes nothing but the same.”

“In the spirit of such a desire, I have a proposal for you.”

“Majesty?”

Loki carefully hid his nerves, “The gift your master sent with you is a remarkable thing, and if it were possible, I would like to procure more for my other sorcerers, to study and make use of.”

Cadoc’s eyebrows raised in surprise, “In return for what your majesty? Crochan Orbs are very valuable to us, what would you offer as a fair trade?”

Loki rubbed his chin in thought, “Would gold not be sufficient?”

“I suspect my master would prefer a trade, rather than a purchase. He does not believe that strength is found in a monetary economy, preferring a bartering method.”

“Hmmm… then what would appease your master?” Loki couldn’t let on that he was rather desperate to get as many Crochan Orbs as he could, to buy himself more time.

“Many things, some you may be willing to part with, others less so.”

“Do I look to be in the mood for a game of barter?”

Cadoc bowed in apology, “Forgive me. Perhaps we could come to an arrangement with the gold. We make heavy use of it in our technology, it is a very good conductor.”

“So… instead of buying the Crochan Orbs, I trade them for gold?” Loki gave him an irritated look. Cadoc smiled and spread his hands,

“Surely you, King Loki Silvertongue, can appreciate a semantic.”

Loki’s lips twitched with amusement and he nodded, “Very well, draw up an agreement before you leave, and I will have Sverrir finalise it with you.”

“Majesty,” said Cadoc, bowing low and backing up. Loki looked around at his people and smirked as he saw how much fun they were having at _his_ coronation. Groups moved in perfect synchronicity on the dance floor, everyone was laughing and talking like they hadn’t a care in the world. It was almost perfect, Loki sighed, looking at Sigyn who was still talking to Byleist. Unable to take it anymore, Loki clicked his fingers and Abjörn appeared at his side –almost like magic.

“I feel like dancing,” Loki declared, handing him Gungnir and his helm. He had danced in his helmet before, but it was awkward. Abjörn instantly replaced the helm with a small circlet of gold that would make it clear he was still king. Loki hated it because it pressed on his head in a way his helmet never did. Still, appearances and all that. He rose to his feet, gave Abjörn a final command, and stepped down quickly before he had the whole room bowing to him. Of course everyone he passed bowed and curtsied as he went to the delegates’ seats and smiled at Sigyn.

“My dear friend, Princess Sigyn,” he called, cutting between Sigyn and Byleist’s words. “If you’re going to favour Cadoc with a dance, I must insist on one for myself.”

Sigyn’s expression shut down for a moment, then she smiled as if they were the best of friends, gave a girly giggle that Loki detested but knew well, and extending her hand,

“I can hardly refuse your majesty. I am so sorry to abandon you once more Prince Byleist, but this is exactly why you simply must come visit in Vanaheim, or allow me to visit you my friend.”

Jealousy burned in Loki’s stomach as Byleist nodded his head. Sigyn slipped her feet into her shoes and took his hand. Loki held her tight as he led her to the floor.

“What were you and Byleist talking about?” he asked softly as they moved around the dance floor.

“Nothing of your concern your majesty, simple talk,” said Sigyn coolly as she let him lead her around the dance floor.

“Sigyn, listen to me,” started Loki.

“I don’t want to hear it,” she snapped, still smiling fixedly. “I cannot hear another word from you, not until you are yourself again, so please, if you have any sense of decency left in you, you will not make me keep up this charade any more than I must. Let’s just dance, and I shall smile as if you are the most dazzling thing in the room, so your people can be pleased and maybe be manipulated, but then I beg you Loki, to let me be. I’m too weary to play more games with you.”

It was like her words were a knife cutting into his chest. Loki swallowed and pulled her closer, unable to speak. He needed privacy to tell her the truth, but he could not resist leaning in and inhaling the scent of her hair, his hand tightening against the small of her back. Despite his explosive reaction earlier, his blood started to pool once more. He wanted her so badly he had to fight the urge to do something insane, like bite her, or bend her over the nearest table. He could just imagine the rush of excitement he would feel as he claimed her in front of everyone, but he had a distinct feeling Sigyn would not appreciate it. She wasn’t even looking at him. Although as they moved he could feel her pressing closer, her cheek brushing his as they started to just sway, forgoing the proper steps of the dance as it came to an end.

“We’re not moving,” she mumbled.

“No, we’re not,” sighed Loki into her ear. Sigyn shifted and lifted her head, looking into his eyes. They stared at each other, ignoring the curious eyes of the court, until finally, Loki smiled. “Dance with me, properly.”

Sigyn frowned, starting to shake her head. Loki cut across her, “I mean, dance with me like you would if no one was watching us. I’m tired of pretending we’re just friends to everyone. I want to dance with you like we do on Midgard… like we did in Buenos Aires, after we got married in New York. Do you remember?”

Sigyn’s lips twitched, “Yes. But I don’t think these people would approve.”

Loki smirked, “So fuck them. It’s my coronation, I can do what I want. And I want to dance with you.”

Sigyn hand trembled on his shoulder as she looked at him, “Loki?”

Loki smiled and nodded, “I’m right here, and I want you to dance with me.”

Sigyn bit on her lip and said, “When we danced in Buenos Aires, we moved as one person. I’ve never felt more connected to you as I did that night, we were extensions of each other.” She lifted her eyes to meet his, her voice trembling. “And today, I feel further away from you than ever before.”

Sigyn pulled her hands away and Loki grabbed them, “Sigyn, please.”

“Forgive me your majesty, but I beg your leave to go to my rooms. I am exhausted from my work last night, and I hope you will forgive my rudeness.” Sigyn was barely holding on to her composure, her voice loud enough to let people hear her and hopefully accept that she was simply exhausted. There was nothing Loki could do but agree.

“Of course, thank you for the dance.”

Sigyn curtsied and fled, leaving Loki feeling helpless, but in seconds he was surrounded by women who were eager to dance with him. He selected a random lady and danced with her and many other girls over the course of the feast. All of them were young, pretty, and flushed from last night, where Loki did not doubt many had snuck into the field after their father’s had locked them in their bedrooms. By the way they were pressing against him, it was obvious they were hoping he would do something about the fire stoked inside them now. If he hadn’t been married he might have happily done so, but he was and his wife was probably crying in bed now because of him and he couldn’t go to her.

Feeling disheartened and wishing he could have just enjoyed his coronation, Loki sat in his throne and closed his eyes. He wanted to see her. Using the power of Hlidskialf he peered through the veil and into Sigyn’s chambers. To his surprise, she was sitting in the dark, staring at nothing. One of the Ey set a drink on the table by her chair and looked at her in concern.

“We go at first light,” said Sigyn softly. “I cannot stay here, not when he mocks me like that.”

_But I wasn’t mocking you!_

“He has lost all his compassion to this transformation, and he doesn’t even care that I would…” Sigyn bit her lip and inhaled slowly, “I can’t do this anymore. All our lives I have held his hand and loved him, and helped him through problem after problem, and when I come to him… he doesn’t care if I need help. Not really. I needed his help to figure a way out of the marriage to Berach and he just condemned me as a coward.”

Loki wished his stomach wasn’t capable of hurting so much.

Sigyn visibly swallowed, “Sétti, I’m starting to wonder if loving him is enough.”

Loki’s eyes snapped open and he stood up. Abjörn moved to his side as Loki pulled off the circlet,

“Continue the feast, I will return in time.”

“Yes your majesty,” said Abjörn with a bow. Loki strode through the hall, ignoring the bowing people as he went out the doors and walked as fast as he could to Sigyn’s chambers. He burst through the doors and slammed them shut behind him, finding Sigyn exactly where he had seen her, with only a single Ey attending her.

“You think to abandon me just because things are hard?” he barked. Sigyn got to her feet in alarm, and the Ey stepped forward as if to protect her. “Get out!” snapped Loki at the girl, who looked at Sigyn. Sigyn nodded after a moment.

“It’s alright Sétti, you can go.”

The Ey nodded and disappeared into another room. Sigyn waited until the door shut and then looked at Loki.

“Don’t you dare ever talk to my servants like that again!”

“I don’t care about those soulless vultures! How dare you consider leaving me!”

“Oh so you care about that now?” asked Sigyn curtly, folding her arms across her chest.

“Of course I do!”

“You have a funny way of showing it!” she snapped, “Coming in here like a righteous Aesir, full of sound and fury and not a shred of humility or compassion. If this is to be your behaviour from now on, cruel games and boiling tempers, you’ll make it easier to leave you.”

Loki bit back a vicious retort and forced himself to stop and think. This wasn’t what he wanted, not at all. He turned away and closed his eyes, taking deep breaths to try and focus. He could feel Sigyn’s gaze burning into his back. He shivered as a wave of seiðr flowed over him and he slipped his hand into his pocket. The Crochan orb felt heavy as he lifted it out, pumping the new wave in and relaxing as it slipped away. He swallowed, his mouth going dry as he held the Crochan Orb tight and said,

“You’re right. I… I need help.”

Sigyn said nothing. Loki continued, “The seiðr, it’s trying to consume me completely, make me a part of it. That’s why I’ve been so disconnected, so I wouldn’t notice what it was doing, picking me apart to devour.”

He turned to look at Sigyn and held out the orb, “I… when you said you would leave me, I nearly lost control. It… I nearly died because of it. But this, the Crochan Orb saved my life, I can pump the excess seiðr into it and be more like myself. It… it saved my life.”

“If you’re trying to make me feel guilty-”

“No! I just, I just want to talk to you, now while I’m myself.”

Sigyn eyed him suspiciously, “What about?”

Loki wanted to tell her how afraid he was of losing her, of losing himself, but instead he stepped closer and said,

“You made me soil my underwear with your dancing.”

Sigyn raised an eyebrow at him, “As in… you climaxed?”

Loki nodded, “Like a boy who got a glimpse down a woman’s dress. It would be embarrassing, if it hadn’t been you… if your work hadn’t been so masterful. Sigyn you outdid yourself, you out did Freyja, you were magnificent.”

Sigyn blinked hard, and her voice was slightly strangled, “Thank you.”

Loki stepped closer, “You were beautiful, full of fire and joy…” He touched her shoulder, just at the neckline of her short top, “All I wanted to do was go to you, and kiss you, taste your skin, tie you to my bed and never let you go.”

His fingertips skimmed over her skin, resting on the swell of her breasts as he looked into her face. She was trying to remain detached, her lower lip trembling as Loki let his hand flatten and cup her left breast, gently squeezing as he bent his neck and pressed soft kisses to the bare skin of her collar. “My queen, my wife, my Sigyn,” he murmured, kissing his way up her throat as she stood there, immobile, save for her increasing breath. As he moved over her jaw he saw her eyes were closed and her lips were parted. Loki smiled and pressed his lips to hers, his tongue flicking out to skim her lower lip.

Sigyn’s hands shoved him away with a violent jerk and she took three steps away from him, “No Loki! You cannot just seduce me to make this better. You think this is about sex?”

Loki straightened up, “No, in fact I don’t think I know what this is about, so why don’t you explain it to me?”

“Why do I have to explain it? Why can’t you just stop and think? I told you I can’t trust you anymore.”

“But I’m myself again!”

“For how long? What if you went back to how you were in the middle of it and decided to keep going even if I told you no?”

“That won’t happen, I would never do that,” said Loki furiously.

“As yourself but I cannot trust that your seiðr flooded self wouldn’t.”

There was an obvious comparison but Loki was grateful she did not mention it. “I just don’t want to fight with you anymore.”

“And you think I do?” Sigyn demanded, hand on her chest. “Loki, I would give anything to be able to curl up beside you and let everything drift away, but… I can’t. Not if I want to be a good queen.”

“What does one have to do with the other?”

“Because being a good queen is more important than being your wife!”

Loki took a step back, hands falling to his sides.

“You’d rather be queen than my wife?”

“That is not what I said, do not twist my words to suit yourself!”

“Then what did you mean?”

“I mean that being put in charge of caring for three billion people across an entire planet is of greater importance than being your wife, because those people need me to look after them. They expect me to make sure they and their children never go to war again, they expect me to protect them if the planet fails them in some way, they demand that I do everything in their best interest and yet I haven’t done a damn thing for them because I was so caught up in being your wife. I cannot be so selfish anymore. I won’t be. I can be better than that.”

“Can be –what are you talking about? There’s nothing wrong with you.”

Sigyn scoffed, “Oh yes, nothing wrong with the princess who doesn’t care about her subjects, nothing wrong with the princess who doesn’t know about her world’s politics, nothing wrong with the woman who cannot be strong enough to care for her husband when he’s ill and manage her position at home!” She turned blazing eyes on Loki, trembling as she cried, “Don’t you understand Loki I have failed at everything! I was born to do one thing, be a queen to my people and I have failed so spectacularly my parents want to throw me away and give the role to someone else. I tried to be your wife and I failed there too, because I cannot help you. I couldn’t even keep your people’s attention beyond five minutes, the other delegates are laughing at me –I am a failure!”

Loki had had enough. He rushed forward and wrapped Sigyn in his arms, crushing her against him.

“Enough! Just stop.”

Sigyn struggled for a moment, then gave up, sagging against him and burying her face in his chest. She took several deep breaths as Loki ran his fingers through her hair, not quite scratching her scalp. As he held her, Loki thought hard about what to do. He wanted her to stay with him, let him help her, but Vanaheim would never accept that. He wanted to tell her it was not her fault, it was her parents’ fault for giving her to the Svana and never trying to raise her themselves. He wanted to reassure her that she was not a failure, no more than he was –how many hours had she put into caring for him over the years, put into Fenrir until she could no longer fit on the island, put into helping Loki grow up? How many hours had she denied herself for him?

“Go home,” he mumbled into her hair.

“What?”

“Go home Sigyn, and do whatever you need to do to prove to your parents that they are fools. I will be fine, I have Kvasir and Sverrir already trying to find a way to reverse this process, I will accept Queen Aetril’s offer of assistance too.” He caught her face in his hands and made her look up at him, “I want you to go home and stop worrying about me. Focus on what you need to do, and when you’ve done it, I’ll be here, still your husband, still your lover.”

Sigyn swallowed, “Are you sure?”

“Yes, go and show them the side of yourself I love and admire so much.” Loki kissed her brow.

Sigyn smiled at him gratefully, “Thank you Loki.”

Loki pressed kisses to her face, catching her lips and humming in pleasure when she kissed him back. She whimpered as he pulled her flush against him, letting him push his knee between hers. Loki could feel her resolve weakening, his gesture of kindness and consideration making her want to trust him again. He knew he had to stop. So he broke the kiss and whispered against her lips,

“I have the key to Fenrir’s freedom, but I won’t use it until I am well –he deserves to have a father who is not a walking explosion. Hel has suggested that he might be locked inside his current form, as much as it sickens me he will not remember a few more months of his existence over a thousand years.”

Sigyn sniffed and nodded, her brow rubbing against his. “Hel was here?”

“She had her own ideas about dealing with Brokkr,” said Loki, grinning viciously.

“I hope she saved some of her rage for the Golden Völva.”

Loki made a noise of agreement and stepped back, still holding her hands. “I should go, people will wonder where I am.”

Sigyn nodded, pulling her fingers from his, “I understand –and I’m sorry I ran out on you. I just… I thought you were mocking me.”

“I know, and I’m sorry I’ve hurt you so much lately. I’m also sorry I didn’t tell you mother knew.”

“Not going to deny it, that was a terrifying moment.”

Loki huffed a laugh, “She was very hurt about it, and I wasn’t kind to her.”

“I don’t think she deserves kindness more than Odin. She may be a wife to an Aesir, but she has a brain, and a spine, and she was a powerful woman in Vanaheim. She could have stood up to him many times, and she did not from what I can see. Still, I felt bad about her grief, she was always kind to me where my own parents…” She smiled ruefully and looked away, “Well, it doesn’t matter now, soon my parents will not be a concern for me.”

Loki stiffened and looked at her questioningly, trying to hide his alarm. Sigyn looked at him with a coldly calculating look. “It’s best you don’t know anything, but when I go home, I will be very busy. If I send you no letters, it is not anything but being busy and needing secrecy.”

Loki nodded, not daring to push for more. He had to trust Sigyn knew what she was doing, give her a chance to prove herself. It wouldn’t be as it sounded, it couldn’t be.

“Good night… my queen,” he said, bowing to her and turning to go.

“Loki.”

Loki stopped and turned back to her. Sigyn smiled, sweet and proud, “Congratulations, I think you’ve achieved a lot during this Ostara Festival. And you still have time to achieve more.”

“Byleist?”

Sigyn nodded, “He’s actually a lovely man. Funny even. Please try to give him some time before he leaves.”

Loki nodded, “I will, I might even ask him to stay another day. I’ve no idea how to break apart the Casket, it is in his interest to help me.”

“Be careful, there’s more to the Frost Giant’s connection to the Casket than we first imagined.”

“How so?”

“I don’t know, it’s just a feeling, but it could be dangerous.”

Loki nodded. He wanted to stay, he wanted to make love with her, he wanted to show her he trusted her in one of their many ways, but her servants were next door, and he had to return to his own coronation feast. So he left before he could make himself stay, feeling relieved and uneasy. There was so much he still wanted to say to her, so much he wanted to know, but he kept walking.

It seemed annoyingly karmic that since he had ruined Thor’s coronation, his own would be much less enjoyable than he would have liked.


	52. Arranging the Future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taking steps towards solving problems, as new ones raise their heads.

When Loki returned to his feast, he asked Aetril for a dance.

“I’d thought you’d forgotten about me,” teased the queen as Loki swayed with her, her wings fluttering in what could only be described as flirtatious.

“I’d never forget about you, your majesty,” said Loki, the flirtation not coming as easy as he was used to. Aetril looked up at him curiously and smiled.

“You seem in better form today your majesty.”

Loki smiled bashfully, “I am more myself today. I was… anxious for the celebrations to go well, so I was very distracted.”

“Of course, I remember my first large celebration when I was crowned queen. I was so excited and nervous I could barely eat a thing. Of course, I ended the night with a night in bed with three beautiful people, so I suppose by then my nerves must have ebbed.” Aetril laughed, her eyes bright as she looked up into Loki’s face from her much shorter height. Loki swallowed and grinned,

“Men or women?”

“Two men and a woman, to keep things equal… and creative.”

Loki chuckled, even as his belly tightened in interest. He found himself imagining such a scene, but with himself, Sigyn, Aetril and another man –the Captain Rogers Sigyn had been attracted to decades ago perhaps –in the roles. It was far too easy to imagine, and far too painful to consider after his conversation with Sigyn.

“Well, I don’t think that will be my fate tonight,” he said softly.

“Are you sure? It would seem you could have your pick of pretty girls here,” said Aetril, glancing around at the giggling women who were watching them intently. Loki glanced at them and sighed,

“I’m not the sort to just bring a girl to bed for my own pride.”

“What about your own pleasure?” purred Aetril, her hand sliding down from his shoulder to his chest as she smiled up at him with hooded eyes. Loki swallowed as she pressed closer and swayed her hips just enough to get his attention. He looked down and coughed,

“Your majesty, you are a queen, it would not be appropriate.”

Aetril laughed, diffusing his nerves, “I’m quite certain you would receive many admirations and shoulder slaps from your male subjects if you were to bed me without having to go through that fuss of marriage.”

Loki smiled tightly, “Perhaps, but I have sworn not to lie with anyone but my wife, and I intend to keep that oath. A king who cannot keep his oath is no king at all.”

Aetril’s amusement shifted to something more affectionate, “Indeed, kings should always hold to their oaths.”

“And queens,” said Loki quickly. Aetril chuckled and nodded,

“And queens.”

They moved in silence for a short time, then Loki said, “Your majesty, you have a reputation as a remarkable scholar of seiðr.”

Aetril nodded, arching an eyebrow.

“As you know, I underwent a remarkable transformation recently, and although I have done my best to study it, the duties of a king are unending.”

“I know well.”

“I would like to extend an invitation to you, to remain here in Asgard, as a fellow scholar to my Lendr Maðr Kvasir, who I have tasked with continuing my study into this metamorphosis. If you would consider staying, that is.”

Aetril gave him a look that was a bit like when Frigga had indulged him as a child, then she smiled, “I would be honoured to remain and share such a fascinating study with your Lendr Maðr. His wisdom is renown.”

“And your son would be happy to act as regent?”

“Berach always enjoys being regent, but he also enjoys the times when I am running Alfheim’s affairs, so he can engage in his own interests.”

“Well, Asgard will be honoured to have you stay with us,” said Loki, feeling relieved and faintly embarrassed that the queen was clearly pandering to his pride.

“It’s a shame the princess had to go to bed so early, I would have liked to talk with her,” said Aetril lightly.

“She was very weary from her work earlier,” said Loki softly.

“I’m not surprised, she was beautiful wasn’t she?” sighed Aetril dreamily. Loki smiled,

“Yes… and happy.”

Aetril’s eyes snapped to his face at once and Loki pushed down a self-conscious blush. Aetril smiled again,

“Yes, she was a very sad child when she was brought to my son as a pupil. I think my daughters were good for her, they encouraged her to play with them.”

“The Svana never let her play with Thor and I. She asked Lady Sif to sew with her when we first met her, and Sif was viciously opposed to the idea. They haven’t gotten along since.”

“Poor little thing must have hoped to make a friend in Lady Sif, only to be rejected.”

Loki tilted his head, realising that might explain why Sigyn had never tried to make peace with Sif when they were older. She had never forgiven the first slight.

The song ended and Loki kissed Aetril’s hand as he parted from her. There was someone he had to talk to.

Byleist was sitting alone, staring at the dancing like he wasn’t seeing it. Loki realised, with an unpleasant twinge, that Sigyn had been the only person trying to engage Byleist in conversation. Loki should have been setting an example.

“Good evening Prince Byleist,” he said as he reached the frost giant.

“King Loki,” said Byleist, looking down at him. 

“How have you found Asgard?”

“Warm,” said Byleist curtly.

“I’d imagine so. Any other observations?”

“… I think the food you’ve served in this hall since I’ve been here would be enough to feed my city for a month,” was the curt reply.

Loki smiled affably, trying to ignore the instinctive way his skin crawled as he looked at the giant. “Well then, figuring out the Casket’s ways is incredibly important. And to that end, I would like to ask for your assistance.”

Byleist’s eyes snapped to his and narrowed. “You wish for my help in understanding the Casket?”

“I would like to rethink the agreement I made with your brother-king. It was made in haste, with the hope to bring some semblance of peace between our realms.  Having made a Casket of my own, I now understand it far better, and I don’t believe there is a way to give you a shard of it. Not without destroying it.”

“The Casket must not be destroyed!” hissed Byleist, leaning forward. Loki nodded,

“I know, I have no desire to do so. However, that still leaves us with the difficulty of providing you with some semblance of its power.”

“You could just give it to us.”

Loki ignored that, knowing Byleist expected nothing less, “To the end of achieving a mutually satisfying goal, I would ask that you remain here in Asgard for a while longer, to renegotiate the terms of the agreement, given that the current terms are proving impossible.”

Byleist regarded him for a long moment then nodded his head slowly. “Very well, I shall assist you, but I will not be a hostage. I will return home to consult with my brother-king and if he agrees to your terms, I shall return, but only if I have continued assurances of safe conduct.”

“I swear you shall have it. I meant it when I expressed a desire to extend the hand of friendship to all the realms, if you will take it,” said Loki, not liking the idea of the two brothers scheming together before they started work on the Casket.

“You’ll forgive my brother if he disbelieves you, given the state your father left my planet in, and the fact that you slew our father in cold blood.”

Loki did not argue the point, because he knew it would make no difference.

“I look forward to our collaboration, it will be good for us to work together,” he said instead.

Byleist inclined his head and said nothing, only studied Loki with narrowed red eyes.

There was a cry of alarm and Loki looked around in time to see Brokkr lying on the floor.

“Eir!” he called at once, alarmed as anyone to see the dwarf moaning and twitching on the floor. Eir rushed forward and touched his brow, whispering spells for diagnosis and soothing. After a few tense moments she sat back on her heels and said in a distinctly unimpressed voice,

“He has merely had too much to drink. He will be fine in the morning.”

Loki let out a soft breath of relief and beckoned two servants to carry Brokkr away to bed. Cadoc watched him go with narrowed eyes, then looked to Loki.

“Good Brokkr seemed ill last night.”

“Perhaps dverger are not accustom to indulgence,” said Loki with an uneasy chuckle.

“Perhaps not,” said Cadoc, watching Loki suspiciously. Loki gave him an unimpressed look in return. Did Cadoc really believe him that stupid as to poison Brokkr in public? A chill ran up his spine and he looked around. Hel smirked at him from the shadows before vanishing again, leaving Loki with an uneasy sense of disconnect. It hurt to realise his daughter was not only older than him, but had no reason to be obedient to him beyond love for him. He could not control her as Odin had controlled him –and given how Loki had disobeyed him so outrageously, it made him a little nervous to think that Hel might easily turn on him if she felt it was for the best. She was the ruler of the dead, she answered to no one beyond her own judgement and the laws of the universe.

The Duchess Bébinn delighted the crowds with a pretty dance, wherein she flew above their heads with twirls of glitter trailing after her, and the scent of sweet pea filling the air. As she drew attention, Loki caught the eye of the lurking Mýrkjartan and beckoned him over.

“What have your keen eyes seen?”

“Many things your majesty,” said Mýrkjartan in a soft voice, “Mostly good, some bad, little against your favour.”

Loki nodded, hoping the other man was right. “Good. The queen of Alfheim and prince of Jötunheim shall be remaining in Asgard for a while longer. I expect you to have eyes on them at all times.”

Mýrkjartan nodded, “Yes your majesty, I shall have many eyes upon them.”

“Was there anything else?”

“Perhaps, but it could wait until later.”

Loki crooked his fingers, “Tell me now, and get it over with.”

“You recall you forbid the villages and cities across the land to outlaw their members without your approval? It has caused some ripples among the elders.”

“Ripples?”

“They feel you are… being overbearing.”

“As opposed to them, who have outlawed enough people to populate a large village between them?”

“I would advise you be cautious your majesty, these men have long standing strong holds in their homes. Were they to band together…”

Loki looked at Mýrkjartan sharply, “You think they might rebel?”

“I think they would be foolish enough to think it their right,” said Mýrkjartan bluntly.

Loki nodded and reached up, touching the other man on the back of the neck, which always made Mýrkjartan shiver in pleasure. Loki wasn’t entirely sure what form of pleasure it was, but it was very useful to manipulate.

“Go about your work my friend,” said Loki with a final pat before he went back to his throne. He sat down and looked at Aetril and Byleist, slipping his hand into his pocket. A suitor and an enemy under his roof, his own body and mind struggling to cling on against the whole universe’s seiðr, and his wife unable to help him because she was attending to her own difficulties.

It was going to be a difficult time in the near future.

**~*~**

Sigyn stared into the fire, not quite seeing it as she thought about what she and Loki had said. It felt like very little had been accomplished, Loki had said she could focus on her realm and not him, but it didn’t make Sigyn feel better. Closing her eyes, Sigyn tried to remember all the moments when they had been alone, with nothing to think about but each other. She longed for a moment like that, where there was no plotting about how to manipulate the people around them, or how to win this game that had gone on for far too long regarding their marriage. Yet, there was a certainty building up that those times were gone forever. Never again would she sneak away to see Loki, curl up in his arms and just exist as herself. Her stomach tightened and she pressed her fingers to her lips, feeling them tremble as her chin wobbled.

Inhaling sharply, Sigyn forced any tears that tried to escape back, and stood up, starting to pace. She was full of nervous energy, and was beginning to regret leaving the feast so early, but she could not slink back in after leaving so publicly, nor could she do what she really wanted, which was go back and ask Loki for that real dance. A deep, growling part of her wanted to make it clear to every woman in that hall that Loki was hers, and no one else’s. If she made a dramatic entrance, and danced with Loki the way they could, no one would doubt who owned his heart. Yet, Sigyn didn’t think she could, not when she felt so uneasy about her marriage. She had heard of the phrase, ‘on the rocks’ and had always thought that those couples just weren’t trying hard enough, or weren’t right for each other, in a way that she and Loki were. Now she could almost physically feel the jagged edges of the rocks scraping between them whenever they talked. It felt like they were starting to buckle under the pressure, but Sigyn had no idea if Loki felt the same way. He seemed oblivious to this, just concerned with his own health and how that issue was affecting them, but it was more than that. Something was wrong and Sigyn could not articulate what it was, but she was frightened of it.

Loki was all she had. Her parents had given her to the Svana when she was born, and had avoided actively raising her because they couldn’t agree on how to raise her. The Svana, in turn, were not mothers, they were guardians, assigned a role to make sure Sigyn was proper, whatever that really meant. The Ey, they had started to mean something to her again, after a long time resenting them, but she still could not find it in her to really call them her friends, not the way she wanted to. There was too much between them for them to be truly friends now, perhaps in the future that could change, but for now Sigyn only had Loki and now she had no one.

There was a soft knock on the back door, and Sigyn called to the person to come in. It was Ey Fimmti, and she was pale as she approached and knelt at Sigyn’s feet.

“What’s wrong Fimmti?”

“I… Mikilfengleg Kona, I need to tell you something… something that I am ashamed of, but I… I did it because I thought it would be safer… make me more useful than if I outright refused.”

Sigyn frowned and lifted her hands, tracing runes in the air to cast spells to conceal the room from all prying eyes, and ears.

“Speak.”

Fimmti held out her hands, showing her a pile of pages, “These are from my brother. In the last six months he’s been writing to me almost daily, at first he said it was because he wanted to connect with me, and I responded. But after a time… after a time his letters started asking strange questions of me. Questions about you.”

“I’m the princess in the tower Fimmti, people think that I am something to study as much as to revere, if he asks a few inappropriate questions, that’s nothing to be upset over,” said Sigyn, even as her mouth fell in distaste as she wondered what had been asked. Probably questions about if she swam naked in public and where could he see her.

Fimmti shivered and looked up at Sigyn with wide eyes, “I thought the same, and I cannot deny that I did answer some questions –nothing to defame you, I said little on his questions about your interests in marriage and whom you might favour, nor did I talk about just what magic you can wield, although I did tell him how powerful you were.”

“Fimmti, what are you trying to tell me? Just say it.”

“Well, I started to find the questions strange, they became more intimate, more aggressive. Your movements, your political attitudes, did you really think you had any real right to the throne.”

Sigyn frowned and reached out to gently pull the letters from her hands. Fimmti let her hands fall into her lap and she sat back on her heels.

“I started to realise that maybe my brother wasn’t interested in connecting with me, but in taking advantage of my intimacy with you. So… I started to play along.”

“Play along?”

“I… this was before you started to trust again, I didn’t know how to tell you any of this when you were so determined to stay away from us as much as you could. So I played along as if his words against you were starting to sway me… maybe for a short time they were, but when you finally looked at us and saw we weren’t your enemies… I couldn’t turn against you. You’re my princess, and I have faith that you do want to do what’s best for Vanaheim. Besides… I know nothing else but being your Ey.”

Sigyn swallowed and looked away, shame tasting like bile in her throat. Fimmti inhaled and continued,

“I started to do what I could to get my brother to trust me, telling some lies, some half-truths, to make him think he had turned me against you. He now believes I am on his side, against you.”

Sigyn’s head snapped back to look down at her, “Against me? There’s a plot against me? Why did you wait until now to tell me?”

Fimmti lunged forward and grabbed Sigyn’s hands, “I was afraid to tell you on Vanaheim, in case there were spies. I thought Asgard was safer, but I know how important your plans here were, for you and the future of Vanaheim, I didn’t want to speak until it was over. We’re going home in the morning, I had to tell you now.”

Sigyn stared down in her in disbelief, “There’s really someone plotting against me?”

“Not just someone, a whole horde of rebels has been gathering for years, and now that you’re starting to move towards assuming your throne, they will move against you.”

Sigyn swallowed, “My plans for my tour, the things I planned to say, they could inflame them more.”

“Princess, you could rain praise upon your parents or damn them, it would make no difference. This horde has one focus, you. They hate you and everything you stand for. They do not believe in the single throne of Vanaheim, and want to go back to the ways before the war. Your parents they can tolerate for the moment, because they claimed their power in battle, in words and in power. You… you just inherited it.”

Sigyn’s hand grabbed the arm of her chair, knuckles turning white as she dug her nails into the fabric, “They want to kill me.”

Fimmti nodded, “That is my fear.”

Sigyn swallowed, but her mouth was dry as sand and she choked, pressing her hand to her mouth as she coughed. Fimmti shifted closer on her knees, squeezing Sigyn’s other hand.

“Why are you telling me this?” asked Sigyn, “If I were dead, you’d be free.”

Fimmti shook her head, “No, Mikilfengleg Kona, we Ey could be let go of our obligations, and move to distant realms, but we will never be free of you. You’ve been the greatest part of our whole lives, our every waking moment has been about you, you make up part of who we are.”

Sigyn touched her brow, half hiding from Fimmti’s eyes, “Most people would be glad if such a terrible parasite were gone from their lives. Why would you not feel the same?”

Fimmti shifted closer and rested her head in Sigyn’s lap, like a cat, “Do you remember, long ago, when we were all still very young, and we came here, to Asgard, so you could spend time with the princes. It was our third time there, and we were sitting in Queen Frigga’s gardens, sewing dolls. Some other girls had been presented to you, among them Lady Sif, and she refused to sew with you when you asked.”

Sigyn gave a half shrug as she tentatively rested her hand on the copper hair spread over her skirt.

“The next day some of the children, including Lady Sif, were laughing at us, and she called us demon girls, for our hair, and our similarities and our dress. They thought you didn’t hear, but you did. Do you remember what you did in response?”

“No, I don’t.”

“You made water rise up from the fountains and rain down upon them, and when they tried to escape, you trapped them in a ball of water, and wouldn’t let them out until they apologised to us.”

“I don’t remember that,” said Sigyn, although as she spoke she felt the twinges of a lost memory in her mind.

“I do, and so do the others.” Fimmti turned her head and looked up at Sigyn with a soft smile, “You only remember the things you feel you got wrong, but they are all recent. We remember that you used to insist on us doing everything you did, we remember that you always made sure we liked our clothes, how you would fight the Svana for us when you didn’t think something was fair. You started to give into the Svana more when the guilt of your affair with Loki began to weigh you down, because you do care about how they would feel, and they in turn are so desperate to maintain your image they forget the woman beneath it. It meant you were lost in a lie that has consumed you, like the web of a spider, but you still live inside it, and there is still a chance for thing to be well between us all… if different to what it once was.”

Sigyn nodded, playing with the thick, soft hair. After a moment she looked down and asked, “What would you call yourself? What name would you pick for the day when you are no longer my Ey?”

Fimmti’s eyes shone as she lifted her head slightly, “Ljúfvina.”

Sigyn’s smile widened and she smoothed down her hair, “Ljúfvina, ‘dear friend’. That you really are.” She bent forward and kissed her brow, “That is what I will call you from now on. Ljúfvina.”

Ljúfvina smiled and embraced Sigyn tightly, “Mikilfengleg Kona, my Heiðruð Dama, I will not let my brother harm you.”

Sigyn squeezed her and sat back, “Then show me what you know, perhaps we can work this to our advantage.”

Ljúfvina nodded and started unfolding the letters to show Sigyn what she knew. Sigyn drew herself up and started reading the letters, making sure to keep one hand on Ljúfvina’s hair. For all her words, and Sigyn dearly wished to believe them, she would not be so gullible not to ensure Ljúfvina was indeed on Sigyn’s side and not playing some other role against her. If this was all true and there really were plots against her, Sigyn would have to be smarter and bolder than any rebellious subject to defeat them.       


	53. The Calling of SHIELD

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SHIELD reaches the end of their patience and sends in a recruiter who might understand the out of place aliens better than anyone.

“It’s been over six months.”

“Yes sir, but as I said, we were asked to let them be until they had had a chance to-”

“I don’t care what some alien king says, especially when his daddy thinks it’s ok to just drop kick his boys down to Earth for a time-out like we’ve no say in it.”

“Honestly sir, I don’t think we do. We have no way of communicating with these people without their consent –the closet person who has come to it is Dr Foster, and she’s still miles away from achieving a contact.”

“I don’t care, it’s time we brought them in. We left them alone as a sign of goodwill –and with the expectation that they would be removed in a short space of time and we could expect further, more peaceful, contact with these aliens afterwards. Six months later, they’re still here and we’ve heard nothing from this ‘King Loki’. So, as I said, bring them in.”

Phil Coulson gave a tiny sigh, he could see the tension around Nick Fury’s eye that gave away just how uneasy the Asgardians made him. Phil understood, after all, Thor had done some serious damage to their men and property on his own, that alone was unnerving. The implication that these people could flatten a SHIELD platoon without any weapons was very alarming, especially if someone like HYDRA could get their hands on them before SHIELD. Phil was absolutely certain, after helping to monitor Thor and his friends since they first appeared, that if HYDRA went after them, they would go the route of worshippers appealing to their gods, after all Norse Mythology had been used by Hitler and Himmler to help strengthen his racial and political ideals. Hell the S.S. symbol was two lightning bolts in a reference to Thor’s might and the swastika itself was, among many, many other uses, considered to be Thor’s symbol –and that made Phil Coulson very uncomfortable, even if the man in question had absolutely no idea what Nazism was.

Phil worried that all HYDRA had to do was appeal to the bruised egos of the five and they would leap at the chance to show off their strength and regain their sense of self, which all of them were clearly struggling with, especially the woman called Sif. After all, these ‘Asgardians’ had absolutely no reason to think HYDRA was the enemy over SHIELD, not if HYDRA played its cards right. From an objective and ignorant stand point, sometimes it can be hard to see who the good guys were.

Reaching into his jacket pocket, Phil drew out the letter he had received months before and reread the flowing green writing.

_Greetings Phil Coulson of SHIELD,_

_I write to you for several reasons, the first of which is to apologise for my older brother’s recent assault upon your soldiers. He has a tendency to be over eager about getting what he wants, and is not used to being denied it. Secondly, I wish to explain, as best I can, what you are dealing with._

_I am Loki, current king of Asgard, and the man you had the altercation with is my brother Thor, the crown prince and current exile of Asgard._

_I’m sure you recognise our names from certain tales and myths, however, although there are some similarities and connections between us, there are also many differences. Asgard is a planetoid a great distance from Earth, further than any of your technology could ever hope to reach in your lifetime, and we are its inhabitants, the Aesir. We are what you would deem as aliens –but as you can see we are not dissimilar to your appearance. You’d be surprised how often that body design is repeated._

_Obviously you’re incredibly sceptical and I don’t blame you, you wouldn’t remember when Aesir freely came and went to your realm, nor would you recall the days when the Frost Giants, another race from a planet called Jötunheim, invaded your realm and attempted to enslave your people. The Aesir stepped in and stopped them before they got beyond the borders of Northern Europe. You may test this letter and discover that it does not match anything on your planet, hopefully that will be enough to convince you to heed my further words._

_My brother is the crown prince of our realm, and as such, he is very valuable to us. As his younger brother I would not be king had our father not been required elsewhere and left me as regent in his absence. My brother has been sent to Earth, what we call Midgard, to learn a lesson about arrogance and compassion, and I would very much appreciate it if you would leave him be. I know you consider yourselves bound to the protection of your realm, but my brother is not capable of doing any longstanding damage, unless you prod his temper._

_In return I will encourage my father, upon his return, to begin open negotiations with Earth –the whole of Earth, not just the United States of America. I believe Earth has much to offer the Nine Realms it is currently only nominally a part of._

_I fully expect my father, Odin Allfather to return very soon, and for Thor to learn his lesson and be returned to Asgard with his friends Lady Sif and the Warriors Three, Volstagg, Fandral and Hogun. After which, in thanks for your non-interference, I shall do my best to bring Earth into the folds of the Nine Realms._

_Signed,_

_King Loki Odinson of Asgard._

Phil had known he was taking a big gamble by trusting the letter, but if there had even been a small chance of Earth being brought into some sort of coalition of planets, then he figured it was worthwhile leaving Thor be, so long as he and his friends didn’t cause any trouble. And, so far, they hadn’t done much beyond, well, acting like a bunch of misfit aliens trying to fit in. At times Phil hadn’t been sure if he should increase security or bring in a reality TV crew, such as when Thor’s goats had managed to eat a port-a-potty on a construction site. Even Natasha had looked a bit queasy about that one.

“Do you want Black Widow to go in?” Phil asked, refolding the letter with a sigh. Fury did have a point that six months was pushing SHIELD’s limits very hard.

“No, I think it makes more sense to send in someone those five can relate to.”

Phil blinked, the only sign of his surprise, “Sir?”

“Who better to recruit some old fashioned warriors than another old fashioned warrior?”

**~*~**

It was a bad day for Thor. There had been a lot of them recently. After several ‘scientific approaches’ suggested by Jane, Thor was no closer to regaining his immortality or his rightful place on Asgard. To make things worse, Hogun had lost his job because the old chef had returned from maternity leave and neither Thor nor Volstagg could get more work beyond meagre odd jobs that paid almost nothing. Only Sif and Fandral were earning much money and Thor was starting to feel hopeless again.

They were sitting outside Jane’s garage in the sun, Thor idly brushing his goats’ coats just to have something to do. Jane, Erick and Darcy were sleeping so they could conduct more studies tonight, which annoyed Thor in a way he could not articulate. All around them, people were milling around on their daily lives, sparing the five a wave but otherwise not acknowledging them. On Asgard their presence would have demanded an obligatory acknowledgement in the form of a bow of the head, a quick ‘your highness’ to Thor, and a fist on the chest to the others.

Sighing to himself, Thor tossed away the brush and sat next to Sif, who was sharpening one of her daggers, a gleam in her eyes that Thor had once admired but was now rather unnerved by.

“Excuse me?”

They looked around to see a tall blonde man standing in front of them. Thor instantly recognised him as a warrior, his build too large for anything else.

“Are you Thor Odinson?”

“I am he,” said Thor, looking up and trying not to feel shamed as he took in the clean and pressed clothing of this man and feeling uncomfortable in his own clothes that dearly needed washing again.

“I’m Captain Steve Rogers, United States –I mean, SHIELD operative,” said the man outstretching a hand. Thor grasped it and was impressed by the grip. “I’m here to make you an offer.”

“What kind of offer?”

“I work for SHIELD, Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division, I believe you already met some members a few months ago. Phil Coulson sent me.”

“Ah yes, the son of Coul,” said Thor with an approving nod. “Your warriors fought valiantly against me, especially for mortals.” Thor realised at once Captain Steve Rogers had not taken that as the compliment he had genuinely intended it to be.

“Well, anyway, I’ve been asked to come and offer you and your friends a place in SHIELD, as operatives.”

“Operatives? You wish us to work your telephones?” asked Fandral.

Captain Rogers blinked and frowned, “Uh… no. Not that kind of operative, I mean as an agent, a solider.”

Volstagg jumped to his feet, pointing a large finger at him, “Aha! You mean as warriors, don’t you?”

“Well… in a sense, yes. That’s one way of looking at it.”

Thor inhaled sharply and grabbed Captain Roger’s arm, “You wish us to serve as SHIELD’s champions?” he asked feeling a long missed excitement begin to build in his chest.

Captain Rogers cleared his throat and said, “Let me explain. SHIELD is a defensive organisation, dedicated to protecting America and the world from threats, both overt and covert.”

“What kinds of threats?” asked Hogun, rising to his feet with Sif.

“Anything that threatens the safety and lives of the people. Terrorists, War Criminals, anything that threatens the good people of Earth.”

“Villains and foes!” cried Fandral, hand reaching for his absent sword, “You wish us to aid you in defeating great foes!”

“Well, that would be one way to put it,” said Captain Rogers.

“All of us?” asked Sif curtly at Thor’s shoulder.

“Yes ma’am, I’ve been ordered to recruit all of you.”

“Thor, we must accept!” cried Sif, grabbing Thor’s arm in a tight vice. Her eyes were flashing with excitement as she looked up at him. “This is your chance, the chance you’ve been waiting for. If you defeat a truly mighty foe for this realm, protect it, then you will no doubt be restored to your true form.”

Thor could not disagree with her. He had heard snippets of news about these terrorists, and of a tyrant in a land called Latvaria, of people turning weapons on others for power and evil. As a prince, this would have been the sort of thing Thor would have taken on as a rule, when he had not been going on quests to find an ancient artefact. As a mortal, he had no way of getting to these places, and no weapons to fight with.

“I have not Mjölnir to fight with,” he said softly, “You, my friends, are still strong, and must indeed accept this offer, but I… I do not know what use I would be, weak as I am.”

“We will not leave you Thor,” said Volstagg at once.

“SHIELD wants you too Thor,” said Captain Rogers, “I’ve seen the footage of you fighting our agents, believe me, you could make a great impression, and we can provide you with new weapons.”

“Thor,” Sif tugged on his arm and Thor turned to face her. She was looking up at him with that absolute confidence that he had missed for months, eyes blazing with might and power, “You are Odinson, the rightful king of Asgard, and you will prove your worth to all as a mighty warrior.”

“If it helps, we would have come looking for you sooner, but we were asked to leave you alone,” said Captain Rogers.

“By who?” asked Fandral, pushing forward.

“Phil Coulson received a letter, asking that you be left alone, but Captain Fury has overruled that request now, he believes you will be an asset to SHIELD.”

“Who sent the letter?” asked Thor softly.

“I think Coulson said it was from Loki Odinson.”

Thor was stunned, Loki had told this brotherhood to deny him access? Loki had blocked this chance Thor might have had to redeem himself?

“I knew it!” said Sif, “Loki has manipulated things to keep you from returning home.”

“Well, I don’t know anything about it –Phil has the letter if you want to read it, but I’m just here to recruit you.”

Thor took a step back, pushing his hand through his hair. He had to take a deep breath as he tried to process what he had just been told. Loki had cut him off from this great, most likely best, chance to redeem himself? He moved under a shadow and tried to think why Loki would do this to him. Maybe Loki had genuinely felt this was for the best, maybe Loki thought that joining this brotherhood would not help him. But why would Loki not tell him in the letter he had sent? Had he just hoped Thor would never know?

As he stood there, he could not help but recall all the things Sif had been saying for months, and he found himself hearing Loki’s last words to him with new ears. Loki had agreed with him about invading Jötunheim, or at least had agreed with his reasoning. When was the last time Loki had agreed with him like that?

Was Sif right about Loki? Thor did not want to believe it, but Loki had deliberately kept this opportunity from him. Why? To delay his return? But Loki’s letters had said he was furious about being king, that he wanted Thor to come home.

“Thor?”

Thor turned around to face Sif, who touched his shoulder, her face uncharacteristically gentle.

“He’s my brother, I cannot believe he would deliberately keep me from returning home. I know he loves me, he told me he does, he said that I must never doubt it, even if he is sometimes jealous of me.”

“He said that to you?”

“Right before my coronation.”

Sif looked away for a moment, then back at Thor, “I have made no secret of my feelings for Loki, and I still believe he has a hand in this whole thing… but I have never doubted that he does love you… in his own way. I just doubt that it is stronger than his selfishness.”

“Maybe he was trying to protect me, like he does on our quests. Maybe he doesn’t believe this is the right path.”

“Even if that is true, it doesn’t make it right. Loki had no right to keep you from this opportunity,” said Sif squeezing his arm. “You never stood in Loki’s way when he wanted to do something, even if it was unbecoming of a man and prince.”

Thor nodded, but a part of him wasn’t so sure it was that simple. He had never stopped Loki from practising magic, but he had never supported it, unless it had been useful. Thor tilted his head back and looked up at the sky. He wanted to call out to Heimdall, to Loki, and demand a word with his little brother. He wanted the truth from Loki, he was sick of these many insinuations and contradictory evidence. He wanted to trust Loki.

Yet, he did not call. Instead he turned to Captain Rogers and said,

“What will this mean for us? If we were to join with you?”

“You’d be moved to headquarters, given proper accommodation, good paycheques –you’d have to be trained with our people to ensure that you understand our rules and regulations, and how to use weapons like guns and whatever else might be needed. You’ll be integrated as a part of a new initiative, called the Avengers Initiative.”

“What does that mean?”

“I’m not authorised to know the details of the Initiative yet, but it seems that it will be a team of specially skilled individuals, working together to prevent evil, in a nutshell. I’m pretty sure the fact that you are not from this planet is going to be kept a secret.”

“What of my goats?” asked Thor, resting a hand on Tanngrisnir’s neck.

Captain Rogers looked at the two goats, “You’ll have to talk to Coulson about that.”

“Thor, this is our chance,” said Fandral. “We are not servants, we are not peasants as we have been forced to live here, we are warriors, nobles of Asgard, and you are its crown prince. This is what we were meant to do, fight villains and obtain treasures. Let us join with this brotherhood and I’m certain in time you will be yourself again and we can all go home.”

“SHIELD isn’t a means to an end. Nor is protecting the people of this realm,” said Captain Rogers curtly. “We’re asking you to join with us, but if you’re just looking for your own glory and as a way of getting off this planet, you’ll be no good to us, we need people who actually care about this world.”

“You mistake us,” said Thor quickly. “We have come to admire and care for this world, but if you were out of your world, would you not do whatever you could to go home?”

Captain Rogers paled and swallowed hard, “I… Maybe, but I wouldn’t commit myself to something like this just to earn a prize.”

“We will give our full commitment to this quest, but when I am restored, I must return home. Yet that does not mean I shall abandon this world. There are many things about this world I have come to appreciate. I want to protect it.”

“Of course we do,” said Fandral, clapping Captain Rogers on the shoulder, “We are the defenders of the Nine Realms, and Midgard is a part of that. Long has Odin defended this realm from dangers that would annihilate your people, we would merely be continuing that proud tradition. Midgard has been without the other realms’ presence for too long.”

Captain Rogers looked at Fandral uneasily, then looked at Thor, “So, will you join us?”

Thor looked at his friends, who were all looking at him with wide, hopeful eyes. Even Hogun. He drew himself up, rested his fist against his heart, and said,

“We pledge ourselves to the brotherhood of SHIELD to serve as protectors to this realm.”

His friends clasped their fists to their chests and stood straight, “We pledge ourselves to the brotherhood of SHIELD.”

Captain Rogers nodded, “Good. A SHIELD car will come and pick you up tomorrow, if you want to get in touch, call this number, it’s Phil Coulson’s.” He held out a small card, which Thor took.

“Thank you Captain Rogers, we shall be honoured to set upon this path.”

Captain Rogers saluted the way Thor had seen soldiers on TV do and left them. Thor felt a renewed sense of purpose as he watched the man walk away.

Now he just had to explain it to Jane.

**~*~**

“I’ve been trying to calculate the variance required to compensate for the relativistic time dilation which allows you to go from one place to another without adverse time distortion-”

“Jane.”

“-but I’m having trouble calculating anything, but then again, we’re in Heisenberg Principle territory now.”

“Jane.”

“I may sound like a nerd but I have to imagine that you guys have a Heisenberg Compensator like the transporter on Star Trek-”

“Jane!”

Jane’s head snapped up from her laptop as if she had only just realised that Thor was sitting in front of her.

“Yeah?”

“You and I must have words.”

Her expression twitched as it sometimes did when Thor spoke gravely, as if she wanted to laugh but held it back. Thor understood his manner sometimes came across as comical to her, but he was grateful she did not laugh right now, not when he wanted to talk to her about something so important to him.

“Ok, shoot.”

Thor sighed and reached out, taking her hand, “I am afraid that I must take my leave of you, for I have been called upon to join the brotherhood of SHIELD, and I have pledged myself to them.”

Jane blinked and tilted her head, “I… what?”

“I have been asked to serve as a warrior to SHIELD, to fight against foes and evil of your world. I have accepted, because I believe this is the best way to restore myself to my home and place as Crown Prince. In agreeing, it seems I shall be living with fellow brothers in their own location, which means I shall have to leave you.”

Jane stared at him for a moment, then nodded, “I see, well, sounds like a good opportunity.”

“You are not upset?”

Jane shrugged, squeezing his hand, “Thor, from the moment I met you, you’ve talked about nothing but going home, so I’ve pretty much been aware the whole time that you weren’t sticking around forever.”

Thor felt his shoulders slump a little. He had had relationships with many women over the years, and he had become accustomed to their tearful pleas for him to stay with them. Jane’s calm acceptance was unfamiliar territory, and he felt a little put out that she did not see even remotely distressed. Did he mean nothing to her?

“Don’t sulk,” said Jane with a shake of her head, “I will miss you, but you’re an alien prince, and I’m an astrophysicist, what other way would this have ended? I’ve my work to do, and if you want to come and visit, I’ll be happy to see you, but I’m a grown woman, not a thirteen year old girl.”

“By my age, there is little difference,” said Thor irritably. Jane shook her head,

“You’re lucky Darcy isn’t here, she’d have so many quips for that.”

Thor grunted in acknowledgment. Jane sighed and got to her feet, sliding into Thor’s lap and putting her arms around him, “Look, Thor, I’m a big girl, big enough to know when to keep myself at a distance. That’s why I’ve never let this… thing between us go much further than hand holding. I know myself well enough to know I had a massive crush on you, but I wasn’t about to give into it when you talked every day about going home, going away from me like I was only a means to an end.”

Thor felt a tug of embarrassment in his stomach as his huge arms encircled her tiny middle. She really was a tiny woman, and yet he was drawn to her strength as much as her face.

“I did not mean-”

“I get that, you’re a charmer, and you’re used to getting your own way, but you’re not a bad guy either. I knew that when you gave me back my notebook. You’re one of the most well-meaning guys I’ve ever met, but not everyone thinks the same way as you, and I get that you’re not used to that in your life.”

“My brother-”

“Yeah, your brother, whom you talk about as if he needs your protection, but you still insist he can fight and do magic and let me tell you Thor, it sounds like he can take care of himself just fine.”

“When I wasn’t there to protect him, he was lost for five years to my family, and came home broken and bitter. To this day I don’t know what happened to Loki, only that he gained new and darker magic, and a scar he thinks I’ve never noticed across his stomach. Even while I am trapped here, I fear what he is doing up on Asgard, if he is well, if people accept him, because I know there are those who think him strange, unlikeable, because he is different –oh Loki is so different.”

“Maybe that’s a good thing,” said Jane, running her fingers through his hair. “Thor, no offence, but you and your friends are a lot alike, and if people like you are the ones who run your kingdom, maybe having someone else in charge will mean people who are different will feel that’s ok.”

“What do you mean?”

“Ok, you’ve watched enough TV to know what nerds and jocks are, haven’t you?”

Thor nodded, “Darcy explained it to me in great detail. Your schools have a complex hierarchy.”

“Yeah, well, in simplistic terms it sounds like you and your friends are jocks, and Loki is a nerd. He can’t be the only nerd in Asgard, but I bet the other nerds aren’t anymore popular than he is. Having a nerd king might make them feel better about themselves. Darcy would be able to explain it better, but homogenous societies usually keep a tight grip on their people, but eventually the very system they cling to makes the whole thing fall apart.”

“Asgard has lasted longer than any culture on this planet!” said Thor at once, “And I don’t find all your solutions that impressive, though I have respected them out of respect for you. Your talk of non-confrontation, of walking away from a fight –it is dishonourable, but more than that it is time-consuming.”

Jane gave a start of surprise in his arms. Thor continued,

“You claim it is a superior method, but I have found that such behaviour allows feelings to fester –it’s one of Loki’s absolute worst traits. He broods over every slight and never takes direct action. If he did, then he would be able to vent his anger directly, and publicly show his strength, but instead, he hoards every insult until everyone else has forgotten about it and then exacts vengeance, which makes him look unkind and spiteful.”

“Well-”

“Asgard is the protector of the Nine Realms, you have no right to insult it when you have never been there, when you have no idea how much effort my father has put in to keeping you untouched and unharmed from other races.”

Jane sighed and shook her head, “I didn’t mean –look, I’m just saying maybe your brother will be able to handle things, maybe he’ll be able to see things differently and that might be helpful. Some of earth’s greatest minds have been lucky enough to be successful as well as odd. Being odd without a way to make you successful can make you feel very alone. Things don’t come as easy to you, and you wonder why, what’s wrong with you when something that everyone makes look so easy is so hard for you.”

Thor frowned, looking up at her tense face and he tightened his arms around her, “I did not come here to fight with you.”

Jane sighed and nodded, “I know. I don’t want to fight either, not if you’re leaving.”

“I would like to see you again,” said Thor earnestly, “I don’t wish to part on bad terms either.”

“I’d like that, but it’s complicated, isn’t it? Where would anything between us actually go? Don’t you have to marry some princess when you become king?”

“Always it was intended that I marry the princess of Vanaheim… but she is not very fond of me.”

Jane’s lips twitched, “Bet there aren’t many girls you can say that about.”

Thor smiled ruefully, “No, but then again, she’s always favoured my brother more than me. They are much more alike. Not that we ever, either of us, could do much to get close to her. She’s always surrounded by her attendants, and the only time I could ever really get her alone was when we danced at a feast.”

Jane raised her eyebrows, “You can dance?”

“Of course, my mother drilled every dance a prince and king could need into my mind and feet.” Thor grinned, “Would you like me to show you?”

Jane giggled and nodded, hopping off his lap, “Sure.”

Thor rose to his feet and took her hand, “I shall need a partner.”

Jane yelped as he pulled her into his arms again and put one hand on her shoulder blade and held her hand in the other. “Wait Thor, seriously, I have no idea how to dance.”

“I shall show you.”

After a few attempts to explain it to her, in the end, Thor had Jane stand on his feet and let him guide her. Jane could not stop giggling as Thor carried her around and around the small space.

“And now a lift!”

“What!? No –Thor don’t you _daaaaare_!”

Thor lifted her over his head with one hand and she shrieked, flailed and fell from Thor’s hands. Luckily, Thor caught her and held her in his arms as she clung to his neck.

“You are way too tall for that!” Jane cried, breathless and laughing as she looked up at him. Her flushed cheeks and bright eyes held Thor’s attention, as did the warm weight of her in his arms. He dipped his head and kissed her, pleased when she cupped his cheek and deepened the kiss at once. He pulled her closer to his chest until she broke the kiss and grinned up at him,

“Think you’ll fit in my bed?”

Thor’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, but he managed to keep his mouth shut. He had learned a few things about Midgard’s women, Darcy being a particular source for how things worked here and now. So he smiled and said,

“I shall manage.”

Jane’s grin widened, “Darcy has taught you well, thank god she applied for my internship.”


	54. The King's New Routine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three months after the Ostara Festival, the king of Asgard has a new daily routine that he keeps to as much as he can to keep his declining health a secret.

Waking had become a nightmare all its own for Loki. His mind was sluggish, his body ached and he could hardly bear to hear the cheery voice of Eir when she walked into his chambers, violating his privacy even though he had accepted her presence as necessary, followed by Kvasir’s more serious tone.

“Good morning your majesty!”

“Good morning your majesty.”

Loki let out a croak and forced his eyes open, struggling to roll onto his back. Eir and Kvasir helped him sit up in his bed and Kvasir placed a Crochan orb in his hand. Loki held it tight and focused on pulling some of the stored energy into his body. Soon the pain and lethargy slid away and he let out a sigh of relief, putting the orb down and letting his head fall back, staring up at the ceiling.

“Do you want me to-”

“No, I can get out of bed myself, thank you,” said Loki curtly. He pushed aside the covers and, after a moment of summoning his energy, he hauled himself out of the bed and onto his feet. To his relief he stayed steady and Eir and Kvasir quickly backed up, knowing better than to offer further help.

In the three months since the Ostara Festival, Loki had found that, although using the orbs was saving his life, it was also harming him in a slower way than the overwhelming force of universal seiðr. His body needed the seiðr to survive, but too much would kill him, it was a fine balance which Kvasir and Aetril had yet to figure out. So Loki had done his best to maintain an unshakable appearance outside his bedroom, permitting only Eir and Kvasir to attend to him, with a few very carefully selected guards standing outside his bedchamber. No one could know that the king of Asgard was deteriorating faster than a mortal, especially not the people outside, not when Loki was working so hard to make vital improvements.

Once Eir was satisfied by his state, she and Kvasir left him alone to wash and dress. The first moments of wakefulness were always the worst, because Loki expended as much energy as he could before he slept, so he could sleep instead of meditate. Aetril had determined that meditating actually sped up the process, while natural sleep held it at bay because his mind, uninhibited by outside stimuli, could focus on purging encroaching magic from his mind. It kept him from losing himself in the seiðr, but was incredibly debilitating until he could draw in some of the magic he had expelled the night before, to give himself a boost.

Loki washed slowly, idly tracing over the runes etched into his skin and he sighed. He had been dreaming about Sigyn again. She was in the palace gardens, laughing as she held a toddler Fenrir to her shoulder, her other hand holding Jörmungandr’s as he pulled her along, her steps hampered by a swollen belly. Loki had tried to follow, but his feet had been rooted to the ground, and he could only watch as his family left him behind as plant vines ensnared him and made him a part of the palace, unmoving and alone. He was so drained these days that he couldn’t force himself awake during these dreams. And they were becoming annoyingly frequent.

Loki’s fingers wrapped around the small key that always hung around his neck on a piece of unbreakable string. He would not put the key down, not until he had used it to remove the collar from Fenrir’s neck, and then he would melt it and the collar down so they could never be used again. With the key in his hand, the temptation to just go and unlock the collar was intense, but Loki held himself back by telling himself over and over again that Fenrir deserved a father who was healthy, who could care for him. He needed to pick the right moment, having already considered exactly how he was going to sell the situation to the rest of Asgard. The truth was out of the question, Loki could not expose Odin and Frigga’s actions, no matter how bitter he felt. It was too dangerous. Nor could he deal with the guilt people would place upon his own shoulders for having abandoned his children for so long with nary an excuse beyond submission to Odin and shame.

Loki sank up to his nose in the water, his stomach turning. No matter what way he looked at it, he could never excuse his own inaction, and he could not expunge the guilt. Still, he couldn’t let Asgard know the truth, they would never forgive him for being unmanned, and then abandoning his children. So Loki had determined there was only one way to explain it in such a way as to leave the Odin Family looking blameless and long-suffering. Still, the lie stuck in his throat the way no other ever had.

Loki dressed and then ate his breakfast, reading some reports Kvasir had left behind for him. Food was a vital thing now to keep him functioning, and Idunn was handing over a golden apple every morning, to keep him strong. She had no idea what the apples were for, only that the king had commanded it. Then again, she was very busy right now, having to deal with a new list of names that was horrifyingly long.

After breakfast Loki went for a walk, to show the people he was active and well, and to pay a personal visit to the city’s newest landmark. It was a building carefully designed to look functional and simple, without spoiling the beauty of the Idavoll skyline. It was the new barracks for the outlaws that Tyr had been rounding up tirelessly since the coronation. So far six thousand had been found and brought to Asgard, where they were offered the choice of submitting to thraldom to be redeemed or locked away indefinitely. It had been the only solution that Loki could think of, permanent imprisonment. Still, the dungeons in Asgard weren’t designed for long term stays, they never had been. They were simply there to contain a criminal until judgement was passed and punishment was given. Keeping prisoners locked away for extended periods had been a novel idea on Dag’s behalf. Most outlaws had instantly handed over their oaths of loyalty to Loki and accepted the wrist cuffs that both marked them as thralls, and put them under Loki’s protection.

When Loki entered the barracks, his thralls knelt to him in the large hall where they ate. Loki scanned the faces for new ones and spotted a few, male and female.

“Is all well?” he asked casually to the crowd.

“Yes your majesty,” they chorused, heads bowed. Loki had not made the kneeling mandatory beyond a cursory bow, but so many of the thralls were so embarrassingly grateful to him for giving them some protection and care, they knelt to him like he was a god. Loki had to admit it always cheered him up in the mornings. He crossed the hall and entered a smaller room, where a group of small children ate and slept. These were very young orphans, some as young as three, who had been scrounging in the dirt when Tyr had found them, and were almost feral because they knew nothing else. Their parents had been murdered or died of something else, and they were malnourished and underdeveloped. Loki had ordered they be given special care, so only women were allowed to interact with them for the moment, and even then, they had to be healers, or exceptionally gentle, like Hlin. Loki was the only male they saw on a regular basis.

These children were terrified of Loki at first, partially because of his horns, so he never worn them coming here. He said little except to ask how things were to their carers and if they needed anything, doing his best to project calm and kindness, so they would not fear him.

Most of the children in the barracks had been caught with their parents and had been allowed to stay with them, but Loki insisted that they be separated during the day so the children could go to schooling while the parents earned their keep. These orphan children were educated in a separate area, so they wouldn’t become too distressed by the other children. As it was there was a crisis with them almost every day, and the healers were run off their feet. It was these children who had changed the opinions of most of the citizens of Idavoll who had vehemently rejected the idea of outlaws being rehabilitated. When the streams of people, hungry, scared and ragged had made their way to the barracks, people had been moved, but especially when they saw the state of some of the children.

Already there had been inquiries about adopting some orphans from families who could provide them with more than they had ever known. It made Loki feel very proud about the people, but also made him uneasy because his own adoption was something he tried not to think about too hard.  

So far Loki had no idea why a single one of his new thralls had been outlawed in the first place, Hoder was compiling a list by conducting private interviews with each person before they swore their oath, but he had yet to present Loki with any information about it. Loki’s interest was in the statistics of what caused the most outlawing, that way he would know where to target the law reforms he was putting in place.

He had a nagging feeling Odin would not like some of these changes, but Loki would not back down about this being necessary when Odin awoke. If nothing else, many had amalgamated into primal gangs, ruled by ruthless thugs, who kept the women as sex slaves, and decided who among them lived or died at their own whims. They raided and pillaged the out skirting cities, and the villagers were too afraid to ask the king for help. Loki had confronted Heimdall about not reporting these things, to which Heimdall had replied,

“I am to look outward for danger, not seek the danger within. That is the duty of the king and the Lendmenn.”

Loki hated Heimdall sometimes.

After the children were seen to be well, Loki walked back to the palace, taking the long route so he could be seen by the people once more. He made his way to the State Chambers where Dag, Sverrir and Forseti were waiting for him with hundreds of pages.

“Your majesty, might I beg for us to update our methods of keeping records? Vanaheim makes use of devices that can hold every record in this palace in a small space, and it makes finding information so much easier,” said Sverrir by way of greeting, making a show of the hundreds of sheets in his arms.

“They are also more corruptible,” said Forseti, “Paper does not disappear at a drop of a piece of machinery.”

“A compromise then,” said Dag, “A real copy and a copy on a device, to facilitate us all.”

Loki laughed as he sat down, “Well, that was an easy decision, can you make the rest of a similar kind today?”

“We always try,” said Sverrir, setting a pile of pages before him, “These are the laws regarding outlawing, as you asked for.”

“Your majesty, you understand that changing laws does not change minds,” said Forseti quickly. “I agree that certain laws need reform, but it will not change the average man and woman’s view of how things ought to be.”

“No, but at least we can ensure that the more distasteful aspects of that view can be corrected like a misbehaving dog that needs training,” said Loki with a dismissive wave of his hand. He had been having this argument for weeks with Forseti, and had grown bored of it. Forseti feared people would not like the changes in the law Loki was making, Loki was confident that people would see that this was for the betterment of Asgard.

Dag and Sverrir did their best to keep the peace between the king and the chief lendr maðr, offering compromises, suggestions and generally being as careful as they could to keep things calm. Dag did it because he was a cautious man by nature, and disliked fights, Sverrir did it because he was afraid too much arguing would make Loki’s condition worse. Loki’s strength had held so far, but Sverrir knew what to look for and was forever working on keeping things easier for Loki so he could work. Loki did not like being treated like an invalid, but he did enjoy the fewer arguments with Forseti and others that resulted.

They worked on the wording and the intentions of each reform until Abjörn came and bowed to Loki,

“My king, the prince has arrived on the Bifrost.”

Loki nodded, “Send him to the usual rooms, I will be there shortly.”

Abjörn nodded and departed.

“Are you any closer, my king?” asked Dag quietly, playing with a stylus nervously. Loki shook his head,

“No, and that gives me great concern, the Casket cannot be split and yet I have sworn a binding oath to give them something. Byleist is quite insistent that only the Casket will do as a gift, I can’t offer them anything else.”

“You will find a way Loki, you always do,” said Sverrir softly. Loki reached out as he stood and rested his hand on Sverrir’s neck, before giving him a slight smack,

“You are a man of sentiment, you’re full of syrup and sweets, how is it that you don’t have flies stuck to you all day?”

Sverrir chuckled as he and the others bowed Loki out. Halfway to meet his guest, Loki ducked into a small room and took several deep breaths, reaching into his pocket for the orb, focusing on restoring the balance of magic and mind. The world swam before his eyes as he focused on pushing energy into the orb, trying to determine how much he could expel without collapsing, or depleting himself completely. He would need some energy to work with Byleist today.

King Helblindi had agreed to let Byleist renegotiate the terms of his agreement with Loki, but the heat of Asgard was simply too much for extended periods of time. So a compromise was reached, Byleist would come and spend three days out of ten in Asgard working with Loki on determining a solution. Many nobles had grumbled about the king spending so much time with a lowly frost giant, but Loki would not let anyone else handle the Casket, nor would he let anyone else read his birth mother’s book on magic.

It was a huge, dense book, so dense that even three months since receiving it he had not yet read it all. Gróa, or Bergdís as he called her with Byleist, had been a remarkable seiðrkona, that much Loki conceded without issue. Her theories and methods were incredibly inventive and powerful, she had exceeded many of the greatest wielders in history. She was also very cold, a fitting description for a woman who could lie with a frost giant. The book was not just a theory book, it was something of a memoir, at least about things she had learned and discovered on her travels. About halfway through she made the note that she was pregnant and had filled the succeeding pages with writings on the expected biology, seiðr skills, nature and even temperament of the unborn child. There were notes about the first movements, about stirrings of seiðr, of sensations of shapeshifting in the womb, all delivered in the coldest manner Loki had ever seen. It had made it perfectly clear to him that Bergdís had considered him an extension of her own power grabbing, an experiment and weapon, that she intended to turn on the Nine Realms to consume and dominate.

It seemed that no matter who his parent was, Loki was just a tool to them. It had been a strange moment when Byleist, who had already read the book, turned to Loki and seemed to read his expression that day.

“No mother was she, even if she had lived. My father once said he did not care, he would have loved his son enough for the both of them, because he loved her for her power and her mind, for the fact that she would see him to greater heights, and never cared that we were frost giants, unlike so many others.”

It had led Loki to ask a question he had not really wanted answer to.

“What did they call him, the child they had?”

Byleist had seemed to scrutinise him before speaking.

“Bárthr, a name which means ‘battle and peace’.”

Loki had expected the name to resonate within him somehow, but he felt nothing for the strange name.

“Their ambitions were clear.”

“As water when it runs.”

Despite himself, after working with Byleist for sleepless days, where they spent almost all their time together on this single matter, Loki found himself getting to know the prince, his half-brother, and he was distressed to find that there were things to like about him. He had a dry sense of humour that was very like Loki’s, and was hard to deceive, he seemed to see and hear everything around him and remember it. Loki tried to keep their time focused solely upon seiðr and the Casket, but he could not restrain his curiosity about anything and had sunk so low as to query about Jötunheim’s ways, its livestock, and its weather.

It was strange to think of Jötunheim in much the same way as he would think of Midgard, or Alfheim, a world where everything was strange and fascinating and exciting. Loki felt divided in two, half of him full of questions now he had begun, the other half still clinging to the disgust and hate desperately, because if he accepted the frost giants, he might as well accept his own blood and he would not do that. He was prince and king of Asgard, and he would never let anyone take that from him, not even Odin, or Thor, or Frigga.

Being at his best was absolutely crucial when dealing with Byleist, Loki could not trust him, nor like him, and he was afraid he was letting his weakening state lure him into doing both.

Once he felt more stable, Loki slipped out of the alcove and went to meet the prince.

The room where they worked was cold, to accommodate Byleist. Loki did not acknowledge that he didn’t find it too difficult himself. It was sparse, filled with only what they would need to work, not designed to look inviting. Byleist was already waiting for him, a great shadow by the window, staring down from the height of the palace at the streets of Idavoll.

“Prince Byleist,” greeted Loki.

“King Loki,” said Byleist, turning around and bowing to him. “I see from here that building you’ve been working on is almost complete.”

Loki went to the window and looked out. The Hólmgangustadr was being rebuilt after being decimated by Loki’s fall, by the thralls he had saved, and was nearly completed.

“Yes, it will be a great event when it is restored in ten days. We will have games in it, battles between warriors, settlements between foes, to celebrate.”

“A tournament.”

“Exactly.”

“We have such things, but I’ve been told they were much more frequent and grand before I was born.”

That was Byleist’s constant refrain, that once there were things in Jötunheim, and they were now lost. Loki was uneasy about it, it felt like more had been lost than a war should have caused. He wondered if another source was the cause.

“We have work to do,” he said, and he called upon the Casket from the Vaults. Byleist never touched it, but he always seemed content enough to sit and stare at it. Loki sometimes found it hard to rouse him to attention if he was left too long.

Today they sat and Loki admitted something he had been dreading.

“We can’t split it into pieces.”

Byleist agreed, “It should not be, it is… the Casket. It must remain whole and unspoiled.”

“Yes, so you’ve said every time, but I had hoped we could siphon off some of its power.”

“There is no way.”

“No. So… what do we do?”

Byleist toyed with a leather cuff around his wrist and said, “If a piece cannot be sent, could not the whole be sent for a piece of time?”

Loki arched an eyebrow, “I will not give you the Casket.”

“What if you gave it for a day, an hour, it would make such a difference to so many lives,” said Byleist leaning his great head forward to look Loki in the eyes. “I have noted a new massing of scrawny, decrepit Aesir moving about this city as I pass through it, and I hear enough to know that you have found the destitute in your own realm, and given them safety, and food and compassion. That tells me you have a heart, King Loki, so can you not turn a fraction of that heart to my people and help my brother and I end their suffering?”

“You are still our enemy, I have no reason to trust you,” said Loki stubbornly.

“Have I not come here every day asked, worked at your side –you don’t even place guards in this room to watch me. Is that not trust exchanged between us?”

“Not enough of it, you are but one man, and it is a greater show that I can be trusted by you and yours than I can trust your brother-king.”

Byleist growled, “What would you ask for in exchange for a single day of unleashing the Casket to us? A hundred Jötun slaves? Children hostages at your liberty-”

“I am no slave trader, nor do I wish to cause a single child suffering but I am not responsible for the decay of your realm, you are! You sit and wait for the Casket to come home instead of reforming it for yourselves. You lost the Casket and you brood over its loss like mothers who have lost children, who cannot find them and have no body to bury.”

“We are the Casket! And the Casket is us, we need it for our survival, you have read the text, it is bound into the planet’s wellbeing, it’s life force is one with the Casket-”

“Then perhaps that bond should be severed!” snapped Loki, rising to his feet. “Perhaps I should take up Mjölnir and destroy the Casket and maybe then you would be able to-”

“YOU WILL NOT!!” roared Byleist, rising to his feet with such rage that the chair flew back and shattered, and thunder seemed to echo through the whole palace. Loki took a step back, even as he heard the responding footsteps of warriors running to his aide. Byleist was trembling as his whole body heaved with anger, flecks of saliva at the corners of his mouth. He looked like a monster from Loki’s childhood nightmares.

“You will not harm the Casket!” hissed Byleist, even as the warriors burst through the doors, swords out. Loki held up an arm to halt them.

“What will happen if I do?” he asked Byleist quietly, glancing at the softly swirling colour inside the Casket.

“You will bring us all to death,” was the faint reply.

Cold shivered went down Loki’s back and he lowered his arm slowly.

“I don’t think today is a good day for either of us, perhaps we shall resume tomorrow?”

Byleist’s eyes flicked at once to the Casket, lingering there for a split second and Loki saw the hunger, the longing, the need. It chilled him to the bone and he said quietly, “I think you should rest Prince Byleist, you don’t appear very well.”

Byleist looked at him and after a moment, gave a sharp nod of his head. “Yes, I will. I… apologise King Loki.”

Loki nodded, turning to the warriors, “Escort his highness to his rooms, with all the honour accorded his station.”

The warriors looked deeply unhappy but bowed to the king and escorted Byleist out. Once alone, Loki sat down next to the Casket and rested his hand on it, feeling the chill and the power brush against him.

He ran his fingertips over the edges and whispered, “You’re weren’t just made to empower the Frost Giants, were you? You were made to enslave them too.”

His hand lifted from the Casket, to Bergdís’ book and he laid a flat palm upon it, “Very clever mother, very clever.”

It was a brilliant move, cruel, but brilliant and absolutely in keeping with everything he had learned about the woman who had single-handedly brought two realms to the brink of destruction… and in the results had caused both Loki and his wife to exist.

Yet now, he was left with a troubling decision to make.

**~*~**

That night Loki had Kvasir and Aetril come to see him in his study, where the servants were serving dinner.

“Your majesty, my Lendr maðr Kvasir, how are you?”

They sat across from him as the servants set plates before them and poured wine.

“Well your majesty,” said Aetril, picking up her glass and sipping.

“The Hólmgangustadr will be completed very soon, I was hoping you’d be my honoured guest at the opening celebrations, Banríon Aetril.”

Aetril beamed at him, “I would love to. Will Prince Byleist be attending?”

Loki thinned his lips, “I had not considered it. We had a disagreement today, and I don’t think surrounding him with Aesir full of excitement and bloodlust is a safe option.”

“Would he and I not be under your protection? As your honoured guests?”

“Of course, but I cannot hold the tongue of every citizen.”

“But you can punish those who displease you if it matters enough,” said Aetril with a slight smirk. Loki looked at her pale eyes and said,

“How are you coming with your works?”

They shared a look and Kvasir shook his head, “We still have no answers for you I’m afraid, there is only rumour and theory.”

“There have to have been magic users who have done this before,” said Loki.

“None who lasted very long,” said Aetril quietly. Loki swallowed and prodded his dinner as a heavy silence fell over the table. It was broken by Kvasir leaning forward,

“My king, we will fix this, I swear to you, I will work to my own death if it means solving this.”

Loki nodded, unable to answer as he wiped his mouth. Silence fell again, then Aetril said,

“My son has given me news of Vanaheim.”

Loki’s head snapped up at once, “Oh?”

Aetril nodded, “The princess has apparently gone on a worldwide tour of the realm, stopping at almost every village and city she passes, speaking with officials and common people. My son says people are marvelling at her being so close to them after such a long distance relationship.”

“Do they like her?” Loki asked, flushing slightly when Aetril turned a knowing smile on him.

“My son has heard that they do.”

Loki nodded in relief, “Good, they should, she will be a good queen.”

“Ah,” sighed Aetril, taking a sip of wine, “That will have to be seen.”

“What do you mean?” demanded Loki.

“I mean that until she sits upon the throne of Vanaheim, we won’t know if she will be a good queen or not. You can never be sure what that power and responsibility will do to you. Like you, I think you could have gone either way.”

“Me?” Loki bristled.

Aetril nodded, reclining in her seat, “When you become a monarch, you change, it’s the simple truth of the matter. You see the world differently because instead of being a part of it, you become it, and everyone in it becomes a part of you. That can mean many things for different people. For some it makes their hearts bigger, but for others, it makes them lock their hearts away. In many ways the hardest life to lead is as a monarch, because every day becomes about survival, whether it’s a rebellion, or just keeping yourself mentally or emotionally protected.”

Loki swallowed and reached for his wine. “I suppose, but I think she really wants to be a loving queen.”

“She may not be able to. Vanaheim has never had a single monarch in its history, and her parents established their power by being very ruthless about crushing all the other kings and queens in the realm if they wouldn’t submit. That will not just have gone away. Sigyn will need to deal with them as well as the people who look to her to be their saviour.”

Loki looked into his wine, stomach turning. He had not heard from Sigyn since she had left Vanaheim, and even though she had warned him about it, he hated not hearing from her. It made him feel increasingly disconnected from her and he wanted her at his side.

“What did you struggle with when you became queen?” asked Loki quietly.

“When I became queen I was leading a massive army against the forces of Malekith and his father, I saved my realm and had to bring about peace. Learning when to compromise and when to fight was my greatest challenge. But I had something to drive me, my son was a small boy and I had to protect him and give him everything I could. If that meant becoming queen and driving out rebellious subjects, that’s what I would do.”

“I would have thought being king means your children no longer come first,” said Loki, running his fingertips around the edge of his cup.

“Whatever you do as a monarch, your children will inherit it, why would you not put that first?” Aetril’s eyes were shrewd as she raised an eyebrow at Loki, who stared back without a flicker of emotion.

“Maybe because you know that child will undo everything you worked for, unless you make sure they are so bound to you in fear and love that they will do anything to please you.”

“That would be a terrible shame, if a parental relationship was such,” said Aetril calmly.

“Wouldn’t it?” said Loki with a smile. Kvasir looked between them and coughed,

“I have been speaking with Eir, she’s growing concerned by the constant exporting and importing of seiðr into your system.”

Loki glared him into silence, then turned to Aetril once more. “How are you finding Asgard, now that you’ve been here three months?”

Aetril smiled, “It is a wondrous realm, I only wish I had the time to truly explore it, if I weren’t so keen on studying every facet of your transformation.” She rested her hand on Loki’s on the table, caressing his skin with her thumb, “As I would like to study other facets of you with equal enthusiasm.”

Loki chuckled and brought her hand to his lips, brushing the back and setting it back very deliberately on the table. “You are relentless my lady.”

“As you are unkind in denying me so,” said Aetril, brushing her lips over the back of her hand as if to taste Loki’s kiss, then tucking it under her chin. “Tell me, what would move you to finally relent to me?”

Kvasir was puce with discomfort as Aetril leaned forward, her beautiful and warm smile focused solely on Loki, who felt the stirrings of matching warmth low in his stomach. He smirked and leaned forward as well, matching her stance.

“Do you see yourself as a battering ram, pushing against me until I bend?”

Aetril grinned wider, “Would you bend? Or do you prefer to be the one pushing down upon the other?”

Loki fought a grin, “Now that is highly inappropriate dinner conversation.”

Aetril pushed her plate aside, eyes sharp and eager, “I have had my fill of food, I would prefer to move on to the next event, the one you have been so cruelly denying me for three months.” She ran her teeth over her lush lips and Loki swallowed against a dry mouth.

“I think that would be sleep,” he said hoarsely.

“There are many things one can do before sleep, things of far greater pleasure,” said Aetril, reaching out and trailing her fingertips over Loki’s wrist, eyes lowered and looking up at him. “Do you not wish to experience them?”

Loki smirked ruefully, and pushed her hand away. Game over. “How do you know I have not had my fill, and have decided to await something far beyond it?”

Aetril sighed and drew back her hand, “In that case I shall retire to my rooms, and read some more of your realms wonderful tales.”

“Enjoy them,” said Loki, inclining his head. Aetril nodded and took her leave.

“Do you two have to play this game every night?” groaned Kvasir, colour leaving his cheeks. “I feel as if my presence is not a barrier to you and the queen taking things beyond words.”

“Hasn’t every night ended the same? We banter, we tease, and then I send her to her own bed,” snapped Loki, “It will never go beyond words because I will not have sex with a woman who is not my wife. But I like the game while it lasts.”

“Is it not cruel to constantly tease her?”

“She’s the queen of Alfheim, not some little girl with her first crush. She probably knows this game better than I do. The rules are clear, the limits are set, so would you just let me have some fun for once?” barked Loki.

Silence filled the room like a yawning monster. Loki could almost feel a gap widening between himself and Kvasir.

“I do not mean to deny you your due enjoyment,” said Kvasir, “I just fear what would come of this game.”

“What could come of it?”

“The people might not like it-”

“Do I not do enough to keep people happy?” shouted Loki, slamming a fist down on the table. “What more would you have me do? I already have restrained my love of mischief, I’m working on giving everyone in Asgard a voice and a king they know they can turn to, I have obliged their request to rename the Hólmgangustadr ‘Thorstaðr’ in honour of my idiot brother, I have ensured that any part of the realm that suffers from a food shortage is tended to as fast as possible, I plan on opening more schools to educate their children, new laws to protect women and children, seiðr users and others. I kept war from their doors, I’m making a better step towards peace than my father ever bothered to try, what else of myself would you have me give?”

Kvasir’s throat convulsed and he lowered his eyes, “I would ask nothing more of you my king.”

“Then leave me,” said Loki, barely holding on to his straight back until Kvasir left and he sank into his seat and covered his eyes. He sat there for a while, trying to muster the will to get up and go to bed, just to start this whole cycle anew at sunrise. Eventually he lifted his head and pushed himself to his feet so he could go to the wall and mark the day off on his new calendar. It counted down to a specific day that he had been forced to guess at, but he was relatively certain it was accurate. It was obviously the day that would mark the end of his first year as king –not something he ever thought he would experience, and it was also the day that he had determined was the day his oath to Jötunheim would force his hand to do something if he had not come up with a solution before. Yet there was another reason to mark the day.

Sigyn had told him her parents had given her nine months to prove herself, and by his count the final day fell around the same time as his own anniversary. If she succeeded, she could choose her husband for herself, if she failed she would be wed to Berach. Everyone else might look to Loki’s anniversary, but he was far more interested in the outcome of Vanaheim. It was only three months away and he worried she would not manage enough for her demanding and cold parents to satisfy them.

In many ways when the three months ran out it seemed that three realms, Asgard, Vanaheim and Jötunheim, maybe even Midgard, would be forever changed, and Loki had had a hand in all of them. It was a dizzying sort of power, which he half recoiled from as it tried to bind and ensnare him, and half revelled in, because it was the kind of influencing he power he had wished to have when Thor became king.

Loki looked down at his hands and flexed his fingers, watching the way the silvery runes under his skin caught the light, then dropped them. There had never been such a blatant display of power being overrated.

Loki undressed and climbed into bed, then took up the Crochan orb and pumped energy into it until he lost his grip in his weakened state and the orb rolled off the bed with a soft thump.


	55. The Close of Odin's Asgard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Lendmenn of Asgard may be the greatest subjects of Asgard, but they are still subjects of the king and he can punish them as he sees fit.

It was a strangely grim day in Asgard. Clouds were heavy and low over the city, threatening a deluge of water at any moment. The air was thick and sticky, which made clothing cling to the skin in a way that was stifling under armour. Loki pulled at his collar as he stared out over the city from the king’s study. He had been there for hours, thinking, one of his hands resting on a tablet. It contained all his medical data, and all the research Kvasir and Aetril had done on his metamorphosis. Loki had read the data ten times and every time he was left with a bitter taste in his mouth.

Eir had subjected him to scan after scan, Kvasir and Aetril had probed his magic, and in the end the conclusion was unanimous.

Loki needed to reverse the metamorphosis or he would die, and probably take all of Asgard with him. There were no alternatives, but Loki had no idea how to reverse it.

A heavy sigh forced its way out of his mouth and Loki rubbed his eyes with his fingers and thumb.

There was a knock on the door.

“Come,” growled Loki without lifting his head. He listened to heavy footsteps approach him and stop a respectful distance away. “Yes Hoder?”

“My king, I… I have the results you asked for.”

Loki opened his eyes and glanced at his medical information, “Results?”

“You asked me to compile a report on the reasoning for the outlawing of all the thralls we have gathered.”

Loki looked at Hoder, “Oh yes, of course. Give them to me.”

Hoder, his white eyes fixed on nothing, came closer and held out the tablet. Loki took it and switched it on, flicking through the data. His brow furrowed and he looked up at Hoder, who shifted on his feet as if sensing Loki’s mood.

“Are you certain?”

Hoder nodded, “Yes my king.”

“Then get out Hoder, before you suffer my temper alone.”

Hoder all but fled. Loki looked down at the data and felt his temper rising like a monster.

Seiðr users, ergi inclinations, disobedient women, weak men, infertile women, rapists, murderers, thieves –everything and anything against the law had been answered the same way.

Outlawing, disgrace, humiliation, suffering, denouncement.

Loki let out a roar and there was a terrible crash as he upended the table, sending everything flying. He grabbed the chair he’d been sitting in and threw it against a wall. He was reaching for another chair when there was a knock on the door.

“Come!” he barked, panting heavily.

“My king, I wish to speak with you about the Frost Giant,” declared Tyr as he strode in. He paused mid-step when he saw the mess.

“Prince Byleist,” said Loki, still panting.

“Y-yes, him.” Apparently Tyr would not let the obvious warning signs deter him. Loki whirled to face him.

“Well?”

“My king, I ask you to cease your meetings with that Frost Giant.”

Loki flashed his teeth, “Oh?”

Tyr nodded, “The Frost Giant is making everyone uneasy, there is serious murmuring in the streets.”

Loki snorted violently, “What do you know of the streets of this city?” he demanded. Tyr’s eyes flashed and Loki watched his hands twitch and flex for a moment, then forcibly relax.

“I hear enough, and so does my son, Bergsveinn, you remember him?”

“Of course, I heard he was running your lands in the east, is that no longer the case?”

“He is visiting his mother and I, and spending time with his friends in the city. He has told me what is being said.”

“And what is being said?” asked Loki, narrowing his eyes, “Are they saying that I am a fool for trusting a monster?”

Tyr swallowed and his fists flexed again. Loki smirked, “Ah, and is that what you think?”

Tyr’s eye twitched, and Loki stood up, “Let’s hear it Tyr, air your grievances.”

Tyr turned his face away, and Loki watched his face tense and relax several times. It was the expression Tyr had worn whenever he had visibly swallowed down cutting words when Loki had argued with him. The expression was so familiar that Loki felt the old rage rise up and swallow him before he had even realised what was happening.

“I suppose you’ve come to tell me that not only do you think it is an insult to all the men who died fighting the Jötnar, I am also betraying Odin and Asgard every time I sit down with the monster. That I offer them help is an insult and a mistake, isn’t it?”

A muscle twitched in Tyr’s jaw and he refused to lift his eyes, his whole body tense. Loki smirked, stepping closer to the older man,

“It is truly pathetic to see how you and your kind are afraid of change, like frightened children jumping at shadows in their bedrooms.”

Tyr’s eyes snapped up, “My kind?” he asked softly.

Loki matched his tone, baring his teeth in a false grin, “You pampered warriors who sit in the halls and brag about victories that are meaningless now after so much time. You live in a fantasy of heroism and false grandeur that stagnates and pollutes Asgard like a swamp left to fester.”

Tyr sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth, “You still have learned nothing!”

“It is you who has learned nothing!” barked Loki, “You think my decrees are against the ways of Asgard, but what does that say of Asgard, that we are so arrogant we do not care to treat other realms as anything other than vassals or animals –and we treat those who are anything but sword wielding buffoons as wrong and unacceptable. And you! You are the worst of all, a monster of self-indulgence and aggrandisement who cares only for his own pomp and circumstance!”

“ENOUGH!” roared Tyr. “You call me self-indulgent and pompous, when you carry yourself above all others without any cause to do so! You are weak and foolish, and care nothing for the safety and strength of Asgard, you would rather see us all to ruin, parading your unnatural friendships with lesser realms who would be nothing but blood and chaos without Asgard to guide them and keep them in check! You, unnatural creature, who lies and contrives, who spits in the face of honour and fairness and cares for nothing but his own satisfaction, his own desires and games. I would not doubt it if it came to light that you had let the Frost Giants into the Vaults, just to deny your brother, the true prince of Asgard, his throne! I pray every day that Thor returns from the wicked seiðr you tricked Odin into placing on him, that Odin will wake from whatever you’ve done to him and restore Asgard to its true glory.”

Loki’s hand moved without his will, fist slamming into Tyr’s face. Tyr staggered back, covering his face. Loki stared at his hand in surprise, then drew himself up,

“Guards!” he bellowed.

The door opened and the einherjar strode in, looking from Loki to Tyr, their eyes widening. Loki lifted his chin and turned away from Tyr in contempt.

“Escort Tyr to his home and make sure he remains there. He is stripped of his status as Lendr maðr and is no longer a member of my council. For the time being he is confined to his house in the city.”

“You cannot do this!” shouted Tyr, rearing forwards.

“I am king, and I say you are unfit and unworthy of the titles and status you have enjoyed and abused.” Loki flicked his hand at Tyr, dismissing him. “Take him away.”

The einherjar grabbed Tyr’s arms and pulled him out of the room. Tyr threw a murderous look over his shoulder as he went. Trying to keep his trembling from becoming evident, Loki raised a hand and called one of the guards back.

“Gather the other Lendmenn and bring them to me, and bring two guards for each of them.”

The guard paled but nodded, tapping his fist to his chest and rushing out. Loki shivered as the door shut and waved his hand, swaying as his magic usage made him dizzy. The table and chairs restored themselves and Loki sat down, holding his head in his hands. His anger was pulsing against his skin, his seiðr colliding with it. Tyr was lucky Loki had expelled so much seiðr that morning, or he might have killed him.

Exhaustion crept up on him as he waited and Loki scrubbed at his face in frustration.

The Lendmenn arrived, Sverrir in tow.

“I only asked for the Lendmenn, not my secretary,” said Loki irritably.

“We… weren’t sure if he ought to be included,” said the guard lamely. Sverrir grinned nervously as he pushed his hair out of his eyes.

“I can go if you wish my king,” he said carefully.

“No, remain, I wish for you to bear witness,” said Loki curtly. “The guards are to remain outside.”

The einherjar nodded and backed out slowly, while Sverrir side stepped to Loki’s left, facing the other men.

“You are the men my father entrusted with the running of this realm, to bring word to him of any injustice, is that not true?”

“Yes your majesty,” they mumbled. Loki picked up the tablet and threw it at their feet.

“So explain to me where the justice is in outlawing any and all who dare break a mould that only serves a select nobility. Explain to me the justice of making so many of our people feel like nothing for having a desire to be something more than a slave to a husband, a solider that is constantly beaten down because it is not their strength to be a boulder rolling down a hill. Explain to me, where your justice was, when leaders of villages –men you more often than not placed in their positions of power –punish at their own whim and rejected people based on their personal morality, and not according to the law.”

Forseti bent down and scooped up the tablet, looking down at the data. His throat visibly convulsed and he looked up at Loki with a carefully blank expression.

“There has… obviously been a lax in honour and-”

“That is no excuse!” roared Loki, slamming his fist on the table. “Does this not prove that you are all alike? Fattening yourselves on meat and mead while people who did no wrong scrap and suffer every night? You, who are meant to care, deny the existence of anything but your own arrogance and pride, and only allow those who preen and pander to it to be shown a sliver of benefit and consideration. You who, like Tyr, see the other realms as bread baskets and whore houses, as if we Aesir did not come from Vanaheim originally!”

“My king,” started Bragi, “We are your loyal subjects-”

“I don’t care if you’re so loyal you’ll kneel and offer your mouths for my usage!” barked Loki. The Lendr Maðr looked scandalised. “What use is loyalty from men like you, when you are only loyal for your positions and you have abused them so horrendously?”

“We were wrong to have faith in the men we gave power to, that is clear-”

“You clearly didn’t care what they did so long as they continued to support you,” spat Loki. “I wonder how many of those men have abused other powers, stealing taxes, food… I wonder if I launch an inquiry, how many women would admit to being used and abused for sport, which is all Aesir men seem to think they are for.”

“My king!” cried Kvasir in alarm.

“Never!” yelped Dag as Sverrir jumped to his feet.

“My king, please, calm yourself.”

Loki realised he was trembling with fury and he turned his face away, disgusted by the old men standing before him, these selfish old men, who had allowed so much suffering to maintain a fantasy that only they cared for, they and Thor and his stupid friends.

“I see now why Asgard is the subject of hatred from so many realms, why I saw nothing but bitter contempt in the eyes of our guests of the Ostara festival. You have allowed this realm to become a cruel joke, flattening all who would taunt us for our own high handedness. The Nine Realms is suffocating under our pride, pride we no longer have any entitlement to, not when we cannot even care for our own people, dismissing them if they show even a glimmer of not adhering to this realm’s self-inflated image of an ideal.”

Loki turned back to the Lendmenn, all of whom had a look of bitter resignation on their faces. They must have already heard about Tyr, they knew what was coming. In that moment, Loki realised, they were as subject to his whims and will as any other subject.

“I hereby strip you of your titles and privileges, from this day you are no longer the Lendmenn of Asgard, but mere subjects of this realm. I take from you all your authority and your power, to bestow it upon people who will not allow corruption and complacency to spread within this golden realm. You will all return to your homes and remain there until I decree otherwise.”

It pained Loki to see Kvasir flinch as Loki spoke, he did not want to dismiss some of these men, they had been supportive of him. Yet Loki could not forgive them their share in their complacency, so he called the guards back and ordered the men escorted to their homes.

Two einherjar reached for Dag who looked around in alarm, when Loki raised his hand,

“Dag may remain here, along with Sverrir.”

Dag sagged in relief, even as he looked at his father, who gave a slight nod. Forseti threw off his guards and growled,

“There will be a reckoning for this my king! When your father-”

“My father lies prone and useless, and should the day come when he returns you to your place, I pray my actions will have been a lesson to you. Now get out of this palace before you shame it any further.”

The men were escorted quickly out of the room, leaving a stunned silence in their wake as Dag carefully sat next to Sverrir.

“D-did you just disband Asgard’s council?” he asked shakily. Loki nodded, reeling slightly as he realised what he had done. He would not regret it though. It was only just, and Loki felt a strange, giddy thrill as he imagined what Odin would say about it when he woke. Instead of feeling cowed by fear, he wanted to laugh. He was dying, and just when he needed his council to run things for him, he had dismissed it.

A hand touched his shoulder, and Sverrir’s face appeared in his vision.

“Loki?”

Loki blinked and smiled faintly, “Well, looks like you and Dag will have to run Asgard with me.”

Sverrir’s eyes widened, then he reached up and cupped Loki’s face, letting out a wheezy laugh. It tugged on Loki’s stomach and he burst out laughing, bumping his forehead against Sverrir’s.

“You’ve either set us free, or utterly ruined us!” Sverrir cried.

“I fail to see how those two possibilities are mutually exclusive,” said Loki, relaxing against his friend and grinning.

“Either way we’re doomed,” said Dag, head in his hands. “Thank goodness, you made friends with everyone else in the Nine Realms. It would be a terrible time to have any enemies.”

**~*~**

Brokkr stared at his reflection, appalled at how gaunt and hairy he looked. Dvergar prided themselves on their full faces and shaved skin; Hair was a traditional health hazard for a blacksmith, so it was custom to shave everything off, just to be safe. Since smith work was the highest of skills, everyone had emulated their appearance and now, only Dvergar females had any hair, and that was only visible when they were undressed. Since returning from Asgard, Brokkr had not had the strength of will to pick up a razor, lest he fall into the temptation of using it on his own jugular. If he did that he would no doubt encounter the Lokadóttir again and he would never allow that if he could avoid it.

“You look dreadful.”

Brokkr screamed and threw his arms over his head, his legs buckling as he cowered against the wall.

“Dear Brokkr, I mean no harm. Do you not recognise me?”     

Brokkr lifted his head and flinched as an unnatural light blinded him, “You!”

Heith laughed, her voice filling the room over and over like a terrible echo, “Me! Did you not think I would return?”

Brokkr covered his eyes, turning his head towards the voice, “I wish I had never laid eyes upon you! Because of you I had my mouth sewn shut!”

Heith’s voice carried a pout, “Oh, that must have hurt terribly. You must have felt so humiliated when little Queen Frigga made you her bitch!” She dissolved into cackles that rattled Brokkr’s bones and he pressed into the wall, pushing the heels of his hands into his eyes.

“Leave me be! I want nothing to do with you.”

“Oh? Then you don’t want to get revenge on the boy king and his mother?”

“No! I want you to go, I want you to leave me alone!”

“Not even if I promised you that all of Asgard will fall if you heed and help me one more time? Not even if I swore that you would be the most lauded being in the Nine Realms for finally destroying the Golden Realm, that has kept the other realms under its thumb by might and arrogance for too long?”

Despite his lips burning with memory, Brokkr lifted his head a little, keeping his eyes covered. “Destroy Asgard? Why?”

“Vengeance, blood and suffering for blood and suffering,” said Heith in a soft voice. “It has always been about such things. I will see Asgard burn, as they burned me.”

Brokkr sensed her standing before him and he slowly lowered his hands, blinking up at her. She really did appear to be made of all hues of gold, eyes shining red, hair shimmering like sunlight. Her sharp cheekbones and pointed chin flashed in the light. Brokkr knew he ought to turn away, ignore her or leave his own home to get away from her, but his people’s love of beauty, honed in their skills with metal, made it impossible for him to do so. Heith smiled down upon him and something foolish and greedy softened in his chest. She knelt down before him and touched his hand, her cold touch like a shock and he pulled back.

“The Royal Family has wronged me, but I am no world destroyer like people claim the Midgard Serpent is.”

Heith smirked, “Another son of Loki, a monster born to great and terrible destinies.”

Brokkr felt the pit of his stomach fall to the floor, “How has no one known about these monsters origins?”

“Odin suppressed it, as he suppressed the truth of his boy’s real parentage, he is no son of Odin.”

Brokkr stared at her, “Loki is no Odinson?”

“He is a Laufeyson, stolen by Odin and denied his true destiny, just as I was, just as Fenrir was.”

“Fenrir was to kill you, not Odin.”

Heith waved a hand, “Such things can be changed, even the Norns are subject to chance and I seized upon such things when I met you and had you craft that collar. So long as it is sealed, so too is Fenrir’s fate. Odin shall die at the hands of his adopted grandson, that he allowed to be born because he failed to watch over his stolen prize.”

Brokkr’s head was beginning to ache, “That makes no sense, if the Norns truly set us upon path, how can it be changed? How can you have been denied it, if there is no choice to be pulled towards it?”

Heith smirked, “Such things are beyond you Brokkr. All you need to know is that I am your friend and ally, and if you help me one more time, we shall see Asgard burn. And you will have more wealth and power than you can ever imagine.”

Brokkr knew that she was not telling him the full truth, either destinies were set in stone or they were not, but the idea of seeing the House of Bor fall among the ashes of Asgard was a very tempting prospect. Asgard had always been a powerful ally, but no other realm would be seen as its equal. Asgard’s ego was too vast to allow that, only growing larger with every weapon they stole from other realms.

Brokkr knew he should bring this to his cousin, Andvari, First Person of the Dvergar. If Andvari approved it, then it would be a just and legal act, Brokkr would be praised for his bravery and cunning. However, Andvari would want the spoils of Asgard’s fall for himself, and there were things in Asgard’s vaults that, if Brokkr held them, would give him the wealth and power to threaten his cousin’s position.

“If I help you, I expect to be given all I demand,” he said slowly, rising to his feet. Heith stood too, her smirk widening.

“What spoils would you have?” she purred, reaching out and wrapping her arms around his neck. Brokkr pulled his head back and stared up at her, refusing to be distracted.

“I want the Eternal Flame Asgard stole from Sutur, the Tablet of Life and Time, and I want Draupnir.”

Heith laughed and pressed closer to him, “They are yours. Anything else?”

Brokkr narrowed his eyes, mind turning carefully. He thought of Frigga, smiling and leaning into him as she purred in his ear until she had pounced on him. He ground his teeth and growled as his lips ached with phantom pain. “I want Frigga! I want her on her knees, broken by my hands and begging for death which I will not grant. I’ll put a collar around her neck and make her crawl on her knees before me.”

Heith kissed him with another laugh, “She is yours. What more?”

Brokkr reached out and grabbed Heith’s hips, “You, I want you. You’ve caused me enough trouble, the least you can do is spread your thighs for me.”

Heith hummed and pressed flushed against him, her legs spreading around his thighs. “Then I need you to give me what I want.”

“Which is?”

“I need Dainsleif, the sword of Dain.”

Brokkr stiffened, “That sword is guarded by men and magic, it is not something I can just give you.”

Heith kissed him again. Her lips tasted strange, like a sweet dust, but left a metallic aftertaste. “Well then, you had better start thinking of a way to get it, otherwise you’ll have none of the things I just promised you.”

Brokkr tightened his grip, but it was like holding water, she slipped from his fingers and stepped backwards. “You have less than two months to get it Brokkr, or everything will be for naught and you will remain the bitch of Queen Frigga and her boy.”

Then she was gone and Brokkr was left in the dark of his chambers, trembling with lust and terror. What had he just agreed to?

**~*~**

Once, when she had been a young woman, living in Vanaheim, the daughter of a minor king, Frigga had woven tapestries that were steeped in seiðr and foresight. When she had married Odin, she had packed them all away and brought them to her new home in Asgard. When Thor had been born, Frigga had hidden them away, a strange darkness in her mind’s eye compelling her to conceal the secrets that she had woven into the threads. Over the past millennia the memories of what she had created as a seiðrkona were replaced with countless memories of her time as queen, as mother.

Now, she and her maidens unpacked the tapestries and hung them on the walls of her weaving room. One by one, Frigga pulled away the protective sheet and revealed the tapestries to the light. She turned away from them before she could see more than flashes of colour, gathering the sheets into a ball as she moved to the centre of the room. Inhaling deeply, she turned to the one closest to the door and opened her eyes.

The ball of sheets fell from her hands and she covered her mouth in horror as she beheld what she had woven.

“Call Kvasir.”


	56. The Weaving of Threads

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The threads of the most elaborate plot the Nine Realms will ever suffer begin to weave together.

The night had fallen on Idavoll, and in the king’s study, Loki sat at the table with Dag and Sverrir, large cups of mead in their hands. Dag’s head was cradled in his free hand, rolling from side to side at a steady pace. Sverrir was chewing on his thumbnail, and Loki was making his mead rise up from his cup and take the form of snakes.

“We can’t run this realm the three of us,” said Dag without looking up.

“You’ve said that six times now Dag, either come up with a solution or shut up,” said Sverrir around his thumb.

“I’m not bringing them back,” said Loki quietly, moving his index finger gently like a baton to keep the liquid moving through the air, forming patterns.

“As much as I love my father, I think that’s a good idea,” said Sverrir, “Those men are relics of a time long gone. It’s time for change.”

“No!” yelped Dag, finally looking up, “No more change, no more! Please my king, you’re already throwing everyone into a state of disarray with the changes you’re making, any more will drive people over the edge.”

“You think there will be a coup? A revolt?” asked Loki. Dag swallowed and dropped his head into his hands again. Loki swallowed, then smirked, “Let them try, I will crush them if they do.”

“With what?” asked Dag, voice muffled. “We already saw how unready we were for war against an enemy we have been raised to despise, never mind asking the populace to take sides between an unconventional king and a traditionalist warrior hero like Tyr?”

Sverrir narrowed his eyes, “Loki’s done many great things, is he not heroic enough for you?”

Loki smirked as Dag groaned, “You know what I mean, don’t poke fun right now, things are way too serious for you to wind me up.”

“But you’re so easily teased,” said Sverrir throwing Loki a rueful grin. Loki shook his head and sent the snakes back into their glass.

“Dag does have a point. We need to rally allies, and fast.”

“Well for starters we can call upon my father to lend his support, even if you dismissed him, he’s still loyal to you, I know it,” said Sverrir, sweeping his hair out of his eyes.

“But Kvasir is a seiðr user, just like the king, and, as we have seen with the outlaws, they are not encouraged to train, nor are they held in the high regard warriors are. We need men who fight, men like, like-”

“Like Thor?” asked Loki, scowling as Dag swallowed uneasily.

“Well… yes. Prince Thor was popular-”

“Whereas I am not,” said Loki clenching his fist on the table.

“You are!” insisted Sverrir, “You are popular Loki.”

Dag’s expression flickered and Loki hissed wordlessly for a moment, then held up his hand. A small orb of light appeared and Loki said,

“Mýrkjartan, come to me.”

The ball of light vanished and Dag shook his head.

“I don’t trust that man, I don’t even think he’s a full Ás.”

“And your point is?” asked Sverrir with a wave of his hand.

“My point is exactly that. My king, you need to prove that you don’t favour non-Aesir over your own people, or else all the Aesir who already feel disrespected by you, shunned by you, could go to Tyr’s side.”

“It would do those men good to feel like outsiders in their own homes for once, just like women and seiðr users,” said Sverrir, smacking his fist on the table. “Loki, you should bring some women on to the council, make them Lendr kvennalið.”

“Would you stop it!” snapped Dag, “You always push your agenda for women, even when we might have a coup on our hands, it’s not important right now!”

“It’s always important, if the warriors revolt and go berserker, the women become vulnerable targets for their rage and lust in equal measure!”

“We can’t undo that fact in a day.”

“Then we should start right away!”

“Enough!” snapped Loki, rubbing at his temples as a headache pushed at his skull. Dag and Sverrir snapped their mouths shut. At the same time, the door opened and Mýrkjartan walked in, kneeling before Loki.

“Your majesty, you summoned me?”

“You have eyes everywhere, don’t you Mýrkjartan?”

Mýrkjartan nodded, lifting his pale eyes, “Only Heimdall sees more than me, and his duties differ to mine.”

“That’s not creepy at all,” muttered Sverrir. Loki glared at him for a moment and then looked back at his servant.

“I ask you for honesty Mýrkjartan, what is the opinion of the people regarding my kingship?”

Mýrkjartan did not reply right away, but his eyes softened with thought and Loki knew he was considering his knowledge. Finally he dropped his other knee to the ground and sat back on his heels, speaking in a measured tone,

“There are many who believe you a welcome breath of fresh air. You have been generous with your time, and you have ensured no one goes hungry or sick. Some agree with your redemption of the outlaws, believing that such methods are outdated, and must be re-evaluated.”

“See!” Sverrir smirked at Dag.

“However,” said Mýrkjartan in the same tone, “There are just as many who dislike the changes, who mistrust your magic, and your seeming openness and fondness for other species, your warm welcome of Frost Giants and Dökkálfar, two traditional enemies of Asgard, is seen as a danger, almost traitorous in its nature. You allow Prince Byleist freedom of movement that was unheard of even before the war. The redemption of the out-laws, to these people, is a sign that you are out to undermine and ultimately destroy Asgard’s bright and glorious reputation as a true warrior race of nobles and heroes. They wish for Odin to awaken, or for Prince Thor to return, so that all may go back to how it once was.”

“See,” grunted Dag at Sverrir, who looked deflated.

“So, if Tyr were to turn against me, if he were to start a coup, which of us would have the greater support?” asked Loki, tapping his fingers against his cup.

“In numbers you are even, but in warriors, I would be concerned,” said Mýrkjartan. “Tyr has many, many men who have been taught and trained by him at his command. In his lands in the south, he rules almost as a king himself, the people there rarely come to the capital. It was only love for Odin that kept Tyr from going further with his power. Now that you have dismissed him, I fear he may rally those who are loyal to him and they would be a formidable force. Many of those loyal to you are those without greater skills in battle, for you are seen as a master of magic, a gentleman to women and children, a friend to the weak and meek. In truth my king, you are not seen as a warrior, but as a legislator.”

A heavy silence fell over them as Loki digested this information. In truth, it did not surprise him. Growing under Thor’s vast shadow, being clever and quick, had always meant Loki was seen as a lesser warrior, and that image could hardly be changed now.

“There is one thing in your favour,” said Mýrkjartan.

“And what is that?” asked Loki. Mýrkjartan smirked faintly,

“Loyalty to the throne is one of the most important aspects of honour. Whatever kind of king you are seen as, you are still the king… Tyr will always be the man against the king.”

“Unless Tyr can find a way to justify his claim to the throne, proving it is stronger than mine,” said Loki, rubbing at his mouth as the pit of his stomach seemed to drop.

“How could he do that?” scoffed Sverrir, “You are an Odinson, born and bred.”

“Yet Tyr shares blood with Odin, they both claim ancestry from the founder of Asgard,” said Loki, feeling the dread in his stomach rising.

“Sharing blood isn’t the same as being the direct son and second heir,” laughed Sverrir, “Unless you’re about to come out and tell us you’re not really Odinson? No! Don’t tell me, you’re a Jötun in disguise, a cuckoo in the nest! Quick, call the einherjar, we have to put it down!” He laughed again, shaking his head and smacking the table, “Oh that’d probably shock some of those old coots so much, they’d die from it, wouldn’t they Loki? Loki?”

Loki knew Sverrir was still talking, but all he could hear was his own heartbeat in his ears as it felt like an iron band wrapped around his chest and squeezed.

“Loki! Loki, stop breathing so fast, you’ll make yourself ill!”

It always came back to that, no matter what he did, no matter how good or bad he was, everything came back to Laufey and Bergdís. His blood would deny him the throne of Asgard without a fight, after everything he had done to try and do right by everyone. His blood would deny him his own wife, his children, his very existence.

“Loki! Loki please calm down, -damnit Dag, go get Eir!”

“My king, breathe, just breathe deeply.”

“Loki, this is beyond the wrong time to do this, come on! You have to pull yourself together, just one more time. Just once more, that’s all, I promise –Where is Eir!? –Loki! Loki stay with me, come on stay with me!”

The seiðr in his veins rolled against his skin and pushed against his skull, everything was going dark and he just wanted Sigyn with him, to be away somewhere in Midgard where nothing could follow them.

“Loki, stay awake, come on stay awake! Loki? Loki? Loki!”

**~*~**

Tyr paced in his study, his hands trembling with rage. How dare that Frost Giant bastard speak to him like that? How dare it condemn him, when it by its very nature was condemned?

There was a knock at the door.

“What?” he barked. The door slid open and a figure draped in golden cloth slipped inside. Tyr frowned, then relaxed as the figure pushed back her shawl from her head. “Heith, what are you doing here? You know Sjofn prefers you to never enter this house.”

His mistress dropped her eyes and folded her hands in front of her, bending her knees in a curtsey. “I’m sorry my love, but I had heard that the king had been unkind to you, and I wished to come and care for you.”

Tyr looked at her smooth young face and sighed, extending his hand to her. Heith placed her fingers in his and went into his arms willingly, her soft form pressing into him in such an enticing matter he wished he could forget his anger and take her to bed. Heith lifted her blue eyes to his face and touched his jaw with a gentle hand, fingertips brushing the bruise Loki’s punch had left on his face.

“Let me help you, my love.”

Tyr smiled, cupping her hand against his face, “Ah, my sweet, there is nothing you can do. I have been stripped of my title, unjustly and without true reason beyond the king’s own unnatural whims.”

Heith gasped and her hands grabbed at his shoulders, “Stripped of your title? You are no longer a Lendr Maðr? No longer the Captain of the Einherjar? He has made you niðing?”

Tyr took her hands and pressed them together, “I am still a citizen, but only because the king has put such base creatures above true citizens.”

Heith nodded, “Every time I see those thralls in the street, I shudder to think what they might do, that they are near the children of good people.” She shook her head and tucked it under his chin, “Why is the king doing this? Why is he turning on those who have served Asgard for so long and so well? It’s as if he does not know what it is to be Aesir.”

Tyr stiffened and his eyes narrowed. He thought back to the endless days he had spent trying to instil in the Frost Giant a sense of honour and loyalty that would overcome his barbarian nature. He thought about how Loki had thrown tantrums of frustration, screaming about how unfair the rules of combat were, when they were the exact opposite. He thought about the flash of red he was sure he had seen in Loki’s eyes when the king had struck Tyr.

“Odin made him second in line,” he murmured, “I cannot change that.”

Heith lifted her head and stared up at him with her doe eyes. In the right light her eyes seemed to hold flecks of gold, which had been one of the many reasons Tyr had found her so attractive. She was only the most recent of his many mistresses, but he found her demure innocence highly pleasing, especially in these trying times when his wife was constantly hissing about how Tyr should be controlling Loki’s impulses more –Loki had always done as Loki wished! –and the other Lendmenn seemingly unable to make up their minds about where their loyalties lay. Heith was a welcome distraction to everything, and even now Tyr was unable to resist her lips, her hands, her body as she offered each in turn. Out of respect for Sjofn, he usually kept his mistresses away from the house, and never slept with them in it, but this was an exceptional time.

After, lying on the bilgnsipe pelt in front of the fire, Tyr’s head felt clearer as Heith traced random patterns into his skin with her fingers, leaving mild tingles behind.

“What will you do now my love?” she asked quietly. “Will you go to the king and try to convince him to restore you to your proper place?”

Tyr considered the idea, but he kept replaying all the moments of indignation and humiliation Loki had thrown at him ever since he had taken up Gungnir. Tyr had been astonished that the staff had not outright rejected Loki on account of his blood –Odin must have cloaked him in magic stronger than Tyr had ever realised.

Unless Loki had tricked Gungnir somehow. Tyr frowned harder as he stared up at the ceiling, barely noticing Heith still running her fingers over his skin. Could Loki truly have done such a thing? Could he have tricked Gungnir into accepting an imposter? Could he have done more?

“It’s so strange,” sighed Heith, “Odin has never slept so long. People say it was because he put it off for so long, but why would he do that if this was the consequence? Was he afraid of something do you think? Why did he not trust that you and the queen could rule Asgard as you always have before?”

Tyr swallowed as she seemed to voice his own thoughts as they came to him. Why was Odin sleeping so long? And why had Loki not made an effort to wake him in all that time?

“If I did not know Odin was as powerful as he is, I would think he was the victim of a curse,” said Heith with a slight tremor in her voice, before she giggled softly, “But that’s silly, no one could do such a thing to Odin, they’d need to be the most powerful sorcerer in the Nine Realms.”

Hadn’t Thor once claimed his brother exactly that? Thor was too honourable to make much use of magic beyond his own latent instincts for lightning and thunder, but he had travelled well during his lifetime, he knew power when he saw it. Even Tyr, who turned from seiðr as an unnatural practise for a man, could recognise great power when he saw it. Loki had long been a formidable and power hungry seiðr user. Always seeking another magical antique to enhance his power, the way a coward seeks out an enchanted weapon to make up for their own weakness.

Tyr wrapped his arms around Heith and rolled them both onto their sides, his body spooning hers as they stared into the fire. Heith pulled his hands up to her face and she nuzzled them affectionately, sighing contentedly.

“My love, I am just glad you are safe, that the king did not try to punish you even more unjustly.”

“Watch what you say, Heith, Heimdall watches.”

Heith’s lips curled into a little smirk, “I think Heimdall is losing his skill, it seems so much has slipped by his notice lately, not the least of which is how, not once, but twice, Frost Giants managed to sneak into Asgard. Either he is weakening, or someone is clever enough to hide from him.”

“Someone?” asked Tyr softly, “Like who?”

Heith shrugged, her hair brushing over her sweat-sheened skin, “I don’t know, someone who wanted to spoil Prince Thor’s big day –maybe even trick him into being banished? Someone who needed Odin out of the way?” She looked up at him, big eyes wide, “Why would anyone do such terrible things to such good men?”

“Because it’s the only way weak mean can grasp at power,” muttered Tyr, feeling his heart speed up once more, but not from arousal, rather it was with cold dread. “Because if someone wanted to take control of Asgard, they would need both Odin and Thor out of the way –but he could not openly kill them.”

“Is Prince Thor still alive then? How long do mortals live?” asked Heith, turning in his arms to face him.

“Not long –even if they live a long life by their standards, it is but a blip to us,” said Tyr, eyes losing focus as he thought about his niece and her friends committing treason by fleeing in times of war. Sif would never have done that –not unless she was forced. Heimdall could not disobey his king… Loki must have forced her into banishment, a petty and jealous action from a coward confronted by true warriors. Was Sif even still alive? Tyr hadn’t even seen her parents, his sister and brother-in-law since they had been made to kneel before Loki and swear loyalty after their daughter’s apparent desertion.

What about all the times Loki locked himself away for hours at a time, alone, not even Abjörn to attend him? What was he up to? Did he think Tyr was oblivious to the obvious exhaustion and gauntness of his face? What was he up to with the Frost Giant Prince –his own brother –that required hours of privacy? He claimed it was to uphold an oath, but oaths made to monsters were not oaths at all… except perhaps between monsters.

Had not Odin fallen into sleep in the Weapons Vault, where the Casket of Ancient Winters was kept? Hadn’t Loki been there, apparently screaming at Odin about something if the rumours among the guards were to be believed? Most had assumed the fight had been about Thor’s banishment, but why have it there?

Tyr sat up and ignored Heith’s plaintive call as the pieces started to come together.

Loki knew what he was, and his discovery had led him to turn on Asgard, obeying his true nature. Loki must have put Odin to sleep himself, once Thor was out of the way only Odin stood between Loki and the throne, and once the truth about Loki’s nature had come to light, he had decided not just to rule Asgard, but destroy it from within. He was plotting with the Frost Giant Prince, maybe with that whore queen of Alfheim too.

“My love?” called Heith, wrapping her arms around Tyr from behind. Only then did Tyr realise he was shaking.

“He must be stopped,” he panted, “He must be stopped.”

Heith’s grip tightened around him and she pressed her lips to his ear, though Tyr barely heard her words over his own breathing.

“Then stop him.”

**~*~**

“My Lady, I cannot be here,” said Kvasir anxiously, glancing around as the doors to Frigga’s study shut behind him. “The king has ordered me straight to my house until his further judgement.”

“This is more important than Loki having a tantrum,” said Frigga shortly. Kvasir frowned at her and she sighed, “I need you to see this, it’s about Loki’s safety… and his sanity.”

Kvasir frowned, he had not thought Frigga had been privy to Loki’s condition, not the way her relationship with the king seemed to have deteriorated.

“I assure you, your highness, Queen Aetril, Eir and I are doing all we can to save Loki’s life.”

Frigga, who had been in the middle of turning away to lead him somewhere, froze. “What?”

Kvasir’s stomach dropped. “I… you wanted to show me something?”

Frigga narrowed her eyes and said, “You will explain that to me, but I must show you this because I need your help.”

Kvasir swallowed around a dry mouth as all but ran after Frigga as she strode through her study into another room, this one brightly lit.

“You know, Kvasir,” she said as she walked,” you know that before I was married, I served and studied seiðr under some of most powerful women on Vanaheim –many of whom were killed during the war when it seemed my people were out to destroy themselves.”

“You studied Sight, my lady, I know,” said Kvasir, “A difficult area.”

“I learned to express what I saw in the tapestries I wove, a skill I learned from my mother. This is what I wove.”

Kvasir looked around and his heart seemed to stop.

Blood and bone, war and famine, Asgard broken, monsters surging up from the darkness, death weighing every thread. On the largest tapestry was Loki, his face half Aesir, half Frost Giant, contorted with rage, his hands burning with green fire, as all around him the palace of Valaskjálf crumbled. The more Kvasir stared, the worse the image seemed to become. From the sky rained fire, and what seemed to be pieces of the Bifrost, in the background Odin’s helmet was being crushed by a monstrous wolf –it could only be the Fenrir Wolf that no Aesir dared approach, even while bound. And was that the outline of a huge serpent encircling the chaos, head charred to ash and charcoal?

Kvasir’s eyes returned to Loki’s face, staring at the one red eye, one green eye that glowered at him with merciless rage.

“The king… Asgard… what causes this?” he gasped, hand rising to touch, but recoiling before it ever made contact.

“I don’t know, I had long forgotten that I ever wove this –it is almost as if I wiped it from my memory,” said Frigga with shaking voice. “Kvasir, we must keep this from happening.”

“Of course, but how? Loki… Loki appears to be the cause, but surely he wouldn’t…” Kvasir trailed off and wiped his mouth nervously. “We must study this carefully, there must be some clue in the images about how and when this will happen. Do you know anything about the serpent in the background?”

“I… I believe it is Jörmungandr.”

“Jörmungandr? What would that thing be doing in Asgard?”

Frigga swallowed, and her eyes suddenly seemed bright with tears, “Maybe Loki brought him here in the hopes of freeing him from his serpent form.”

Kvasir turned to her fully, “What do you mean?”

Frigga smiled bitterly, “I mean that within that massive serpentine body there is a small young boy that I failed because I was so angry at how much my son had been hurt, and I wished nothing more than to undo it all and make Loki forget what had happened.”

Kvasir looked to the tapestry again and inhaled deeply, “A shape shifter, trapped in one form? A boy?”

“A Lokason.”

Kvasir’s neck almost snapped with the force with which he turned his head. “Lokason?”

“The wolf too. Lokason.”

“But… that is Fenrir, the one fated to devour Odin.”

“Lies,” gasped Frigga, hands clenched into fists. “Lies conjured by the woman truly meant to die at Fenrir’s hands.”

Kvasir swayed where he stood, feeling all the blood leave his face, “The five years Loki was missing, not long after these two creatures came into our knowledge… his eyes when he returned, I had imagined a pain, but not this.”

“You do not know half the tale.”

“Then tell me all, I beg you, let me help him!” Kvasir cried, “If this is what is to become of a man I helped rear, I will do all I can to prevent it.”

Frigga inhaled slowly and began to speak,

“It began when Loki was jealous that Thor was allowed to visit Alfheim and he was not, because he was too young-”

The door burst open and Fulla all but fell into the room,

“Your highness!” she cried, “The king is sick, Eir has asked you to come at once, you too Lendr Maðr Kvasir.”

“Sick?” repeated Frigga faintly, “How can my son be sick? He –he has been well, has he not?”

Her eyes turned to Kvasir who looked at the ground in shame. Frigga let out a strangled noise and turned back to Fulla,

“How bad?”

Fulla’s face must have said enough because Frigga gathered up her skirts and ran out the door without another word. Kvasir followed at her heels.

**~*~**

Brokkr ran through the tunnels, clutching his quarry to his chest as the guard’s _barghest_ hounds barked and snapped their teeth not far behind him. He had to get out into the open and climb, the beasts were not fond of daylight –not that Brokkr was any more endeared to it. He could still hear his cousin, Andvari, bellowing in a rage when he had spotted Brokkr trying to sneak out of his mansion, though it was growing fainter with each step.

The tunnel grew slick with water as the perpetual rains of Nidavellir lashed down on the ground. Brokkr groaned, he hated water. Stepping out into the air was like stepping under a waterfall, plastering his clothing to him as he swung around the mouth of the tunnel and, using one hand, started to scramble up the mountain side. The barghests howled as they tried to follow, but they were not good on vertical climbs, which meant with only a little distance Brokkr was out of their reach. Yet the guards would be right behind them, and Brokkr had to get out of sight.

The sword in his hand grew slippery with the water, but Dvergar hands are rough and calloused for a reason. He held it tight as he hauled himself up and up. Thunder and lightning cracked and rolled overhead, and Brokkr spared a thought to remember that long standing joke about Prince Thor, how his father could not be Odin, but must have been a Dvergar, what with the prince’s affinity for the very elements that consumed Nidavellir. That same joke had run through Brokkr’s mind when Frigga had appeared on his door in Asgard, made him careless. The queen had smiled and leaned into him, with her low cut dress, purring in his ear about how beautiful she considered Brokkr’s work to be, and how much she would give for more of his craft. The collar had come up, Frigga still purring, half in his lap, about how well made it was, asking about it.

Brokkr cursed himself daily for falling for the most obvious trick, he cursed Vanaheim for birthing harlots who seduced for fun and gain the way an Ás swings a sword and slays all around him. But he would get his revenge on the queen, and the entirety of Asgard for his humiliation, and his people would celebrate his name.

“You’ll be the ruler of the Dvergar yet, Brokkr,” he muttered to himself, shaking his head to dislodge water drops from his eyes.

The howls of the barghests faded away as he climbed over the lip of the mountain’s crater, tripping and tumbling slightly, but he regained his footing and kept moving. He had to reach the centre of the crater in time to meet Heith so she could take him away from Nidavellir for a while, until he was ready to come back and crush Andvari. It was the only way to make sure he could come home, which was unfortunate for Andvari –unless he could come to an agreement with his cousin. Unlike the Aesir, who took all insults as an excuse to commit murder, Dvergar were more sensible, and a good bribe could do wonders.

Unlike other realms, like Alfheim, Vanaheim and Midgard, Nidavellir was very homogenous in its environment from pole to pole. The whole planet was made of mountains and valleys from volcanic activity, with a blanket of clouds that was all but permanent. Days without rainfall were alarming for those few Dvergar who still lived out in the open. Most of the population lived in specially designed caves, huge works of art that ran for miles and miles underground.

Despite the rain, the crater was relatively dry. Once it would have been a lake at the top of the mountain, but the irrigation systems every city had had reduced it down to a constantly supplied puddle. Brokkr growled as he splashed through the water, his waterproof clothing doing little to keep the cold out. Five times he considered turning back, considered returning to his cousin and laughing off his ‘prank’. Five times he changed his mind and kept walking. Soon after, he saw a tall figure standing in the centre, golden light emanating softly from her skin under her cloak.

Heith pulled her hood down, smiling at him as he trudged up to her.

“Dear Brokkr,” she purred.

“I got what you asked for, now let’s go,” said Brokkr sharply, “I want to be dry again.”

“Not just yet,” said Heith with a giggle, extending her hand, “Let me see the sword.”

Something, probably common sense, made Brokkr pull the sword closer, “Take me out of here first.”

“Oh Brokkr, don’t you trust me?”

“No.”

“Then why are you here?”

Brokkr swallowed and looked at the sword in his hands, “I don’t rightly know.” He jumped when Heith’s arms went around him and her lips sought his. He hiccupped as he kissed back, melting slightly into her arms. Heith smiled at him, cupping his face and stroking his shaven cheeks with her thumbs.

“Dear Brokkr, give me the sword.”

Brokkr’s head felt fuzzy, and his fingers slackened around the sword, “I… Take me away first. Why would I deceive you now?”

“I don’t believe you have, that is why I ask, to prove you are loyal to me.”

That made sense. Brokkr let her tug the sword from his hands and watched as she examined the black sheath, running her golden hands over it until she came to the hilt and wrapped her fingers around it.

“Wait!” Brokkr cried, too late as with a screech of metal against metal, Heith drew Dainsleif from its sheath. Heith inhaled sharply as her amber-gold eyes scanned over the black metal, the blood red tip, and a feral smirk crossed her face. “Why did you do that?” groaned Brokkr, “Dain cursed that sword, it can only be put back in its sheath once it’s been used to kill.”

“I know,” said Heith, still fixated on the blade.

“There is no one but us here, who do you intend to use it on? Why do you even need it?”

Heith ran her fingers over the flat part of the sword, “I suppose I can trust you to keep your peace, can’t I?”

“After all this, yes!”

Heith smirked and lowered the sword to her side, turning to face him. “Do you know the story of the Vanir-Aesir war?”

“The first one? Of course, the Aesir murdered a great seiðrkona, called Gullveig.”

“They did not just murder, they tortured,” hissed Heith, her beautiful face twisted with rage. “They burned and raped and burned again. Only death was out of reach.”

A sense of dread filled Brokkr and he swallowed, sensing, for the first time, a hint of seiðr inside him, like a film pulling away. He looked from the sword to Heith’s face.

“They killed for her greed,” he said softly. “That’s how the story goes.”

“And you know well how stories can be changed, especially by those who wish to better their image.” Heith lifted the sword and Brokkr stepped back as she pointed it at his throat, looking down it at him. “You and I changed the story of Fenrir to make you seem like a good, helpful friend to the Aesir, when in reality you were just a greedy Dvergar, looking for profit.”

“I’m not the one who sent false prophesies,” said Brokkr angrily, “I was just the one that wretched queen punished.”

“The Aesir are so quick to punish, aren’t they?”

Brokkr swallowed again, his mouth quite dry, “Who are you really?”

Heith’s eyes widened as she gave him a terrible smile, whispering, “Who do you think?”

“Gullveig, you’re Gullveig, so in love with gold you became it.”

Her smile widened even further, “Very good Brokkr, you only needed to be handed the pieces to put them together.”

“H-how are you alive?”

“I am not. Well, I am only half alive, kept that way by my seiðr. It is why I wouldn’t die when they burned me, my flesh turning to ash, only to be replaced by flesh made of seiðr –an ability that seems to have been in my blood, considering Loki underwent it too.”

Brokkr’s eyes popped slightly, “You? And the king of Asgard? You are kin?”

Heith laughed, “Do you not see the resemblance? Why, he did not inherit that beauty from his father.”

“You’re his mother?” asked Brokkr feeling dizzy with disbelief.

“Oh no, not his mother, his grandmother. When I was murdered by the Aesir, I cursed my own bloodline, my daughter and her children, that none of us may rest until Asgard has been decimated.”

“But… Loki is the king of the realm.”

“Putting him in the perfect position to take it down from the inside. It was unfortunate that my daughter died before she could fulfil her own plans for Asgard, but the curse made sure the boy could do it in turn.”

Brokkr’s mind was reeling and he blinked stupidly at Gullveig, “I don’t understand, what about Fenrir, you said he is Loki’s kin, surely he ought to be set to kill Odin, not you. Why-?”

“Because he is an anomaly! A freak forged by the Norns who wish to stop me. Oh Brokkr-!” she laughed at his expression, “I told you, this is all beyond you!”

Brokkr looked down at the sword, still pointing at him and sighed, “You were never going to take me anywhere, were you?”

Gullveig gave her girlish giggle, “No, but it was fun to let you think it.”

“And what did my people do to deserve the fate you will rain upon them? If Asgard falls it will put the Nine Realms off balance, could rip holes in the dimensions keeping us apart.”

“Facts that seemed to elude you before, when you agreed to help me burn Asgard to the ground,” purred Gullveig.

“Because of you, your seiðr, you’ve been using it on me since the start, haven’t you?” said Brokkr.

“Don’t flatter yourself, you fell prey to my charms because of your own stupidity and lust for both me and my gold.”

“You could kill everyone! Don’t you care?”

“No one cared about me!” she snarled, “No one cared about what the Aesir did to me, and for what, because I was more powerful than their best warrior with my seiðr? No, I shall see them suffer for their actions, I have come too far, done too much to turn back now.”

“Your people went to war over you, you don’t think they cared?” asked Brokkr, stepping backwards. Gullveig hissed and swiped Dainsleif through the air.

“They just wanted an excuse to punish Asgard for their actions, for their desertion of the mother realm. Asgard is but a child of Vanaheim, the result of a war that they fled rather than face, until they were strong enough to return and crush their brethren.”

“I don’t give a damn about past wars and petty skirmishes between tribes, you would end the Nine Realms for vengeance! What then?”

Heith smiled once more, “Then? Then we shall begin anew, with me as the Mother Goddess.”

Brokkr’s knees gave out and he sank to them in the water, horrified, “Ragnarok. You would bring Ragnarok to the Nine Realms?”

“I won’t bring it, my grandson will. With this sword I will free Fenrir, Fenrir will kill Odin, the Aesir will kill Fenrir, and Loki’s rage will be so great that the berserker that Asgard has been cultivating since their first insult against him touched his ears will burn the whole world.”

“Vanaheim will step in, so will Alfheim! They will stop you.”

“Alfheim will soon have its own war to contend with.”

“Vanaheim will-”

“In less than a day Vanaheim will be on its knees,”

“The Princess-”

“Has already been taken care of,” said Heith with a snort, “That stupid girl thought she could smile and charm her people, when there was always hatred, just waiting to be given breath. I didn’t even need to do anything to ensure that one.”

For some reason this chilled Brokkr to the core. The princess of Vanaheim was probably the most heavily guarded woman in the Nine Realms, and Gullveig had reached her too?

“What have you done to her?”

“Why so worried Brokkr? It’s none of your concern. You’re going to die now.”

A sob broke through Brokkr’s lips, as the full weight of his foolishness fell upon him. A second sob cut off as Dain pierced his stomach, through his Dvergar heart and he gagged on blood welling up his throat. He collapsed backwards into the water and gasped for air. Above him Heith sheathed Dainsleif and bent over him,

“Do say hello to my great-granddaughter when you see her.”

No! Not Hel! Not her again! No, no, no-!

**~*~**

Brokkr gave a final gurgle before he ceased to breathe and Gullveig curled her lip in disgust. A pathetic fool, if ever there was one, yet, she supposed, he had served his purpose.

Turning her head to look up at the dark clouds, Gullveig imagined Heimdall looking down upon this spot and seeing nothing. She smirked. Asgard had come to rely on the Watcher so much that it would not enter their heads that there were things he could not see. Not even recent events seemed to have changed their minds. To her advantage, because she had been concerned the Watcher would be a difficulty she could not overcome when he had first come to Asgard, searching for a purpose. But there were ways to hide from that gift of his, ways she had been amused to see emerge in her grandson without any influence from her. Some things really did run in the family.

Looking at the sword in her hands, Gullveig smirked. Already Tyr was making his way to his lands in Asgard, to amass an army, which would quickly grow with the warrior class that Loki had rejected so thoroughly without even realising it.

The warrior class that had held her down and raped her, then thrown her onto the pyre like a piece of filth, would destroy its beloved Asgard for her, by unleashing the weapon her curse had planted in their midst.

Asgard would pay, the Nine Realms would fall, and Gullveig would start the universe anew, the Norns and their interfering ways be damned. They had put piece after piece on the board, trying to stop her, but she had the most powerful pawn; Loki. Holding Dainsleif in her hands, Gullveig laughed. After millennia of patience and careful manoeuvres, everything was nearly in place. She was on the precipice of victory and no one was going to stop her.   


	57. All Is Shattered Glass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything starts to fall apart.

It seemed to Heimdall that people thought he could see everything at once and know everything that was going on. He did nothing to discourage this idea, it was a formidable thought and did a fair bit on its own keeping people from causing trouble, but it wasn’t exactly true. For one thing, although there was very little he could not turn his gaze to, he could not do it all at once. He had to be looking at something to see it. For another, no matter what secrets were spilled from lips, Heimdall could not look into people’s minds. He was quite educated about how people thought and felt, but it was all based on what he had seen and studied over the many, many years he had been doing this. However, as he was quickly learning, that did not mean he could know everyone’s secrets, especially the king’s.

Loki seemed to make it his life’s ambition to drive Heimdall to madness by being unreadable and unpredictable. From a curious boy who would sneak off to visit him and pester him with inane questions about the Nine Realms, to a bitter and angry young man who seemed to harbour blame towards the Gatekeeper for not being able to see him when he most needed finding, to a master liar and trickster –who had been impressively restrained with his impish nature since taking the throne –who hid the fact that he was, as a Midgardian would put it, a romantic soul, acting out a play with his beloved wife, like a pair of star-crossed lovers.

Of all of Heimdall’s jobs, keeping up with Midgard’s ever changing, ever expanding, ever the same, tales of love, life and death was probably one of the most entertaining. He cynically wondered if Loki and Sigyn considered themselves a real life Romeo and Juliet –and almost snorted with derision. He sincerely hoped they weren’t that sentimental.

Heimdall preferred to call his relationship with his king ‘complicated’ than antagonistic, at least these days. He had been incredibly uneasy about discovering Loki’s mother’s identity, but he had later scolded himself for such superstition. He, who was Vanir by birth, but more Aesir in body and mind than many natural-born Asgardians knew better that to think someone’s blood would determine their loyalty and skills, or their danger. Loki had, for the most part, avoided Heimdall, although Heimdall did not think it deliberate, rather he trusted Heimdall to come to him if there was a threat, which a novel thought. Somehow, without doing anything but his duty and keeping his peace, Heimdall had earned Loki’s trust where so many had not.

This realisation had come to him a while ago, and it was why, as Heimdall watched Loki suffer a fit in his State Chambers, he felt a sharp stab of concern. Not just for Loki, but for all, what would happen if Eir and Kvasir could not do anything to keep him from self-combusting? Would Asgard even exist afterwards?

The tap of a cane made Heimdall ease his gaze from Loki, to Hoder, now no longer a Lendr Maðr, approaching him.

“You should not be here Hoder,” said Heimdall without inflection. He had no quarrel with Hoder, who had always been accepting of Heimdall’s place in Odin’s court, but he was not about to imply that he sided with him either. Hoder chuckled and set down the bag he was carrying.

“No, I should not, but my mind is troubled and since you are said to be unwavering in your serenity, I thought I might see if I could take in even a small fraction of that.”

Heimdall sighed, “That is not a good enough reason to disobey the king –how did you even slip from the guards that were escorting you home?”

Hoder’s pale eyes roamed unseeing around the Observatory, and he hummed, “The king is ill.”

Heimdall tightened his grip on his sword, his vision slipping to Loki as Eir tried to sedate him, only for his seizures to get worse. “Are you certain?”

“Of course, I see almost as much as you do, because no one thinks I do. My wife hasn’t spent this much time at her work since we were both young, so she is either having an affair, or she is tending to the king.”

Heimdall smirked a little, “And you have that much faith in your wife?”

Hoder laughed, “Of course. I would not have married her if I did not.”

“Still, you should go, for the ease of the king, while he deals with the situation.”

“Hmmm… perhaps you’re right.” Hoder was smirking, tapping his cane on the floor in an uneven beat. “It’s been strange having a king like Loki, who cannot trust anyone around him. It makes him so suspicious, makes him take note of everything… makes one a bit uneasy, even when you’ve done nothing wrong.” He turned his head to Heimdall. “Rather like you Heimdall. Just knowing that you’re watching makes everyone so uneasy, both on Asgard and other realms. It’s a heavy weight, your gaze.”

Heimdall frowned, “I serve my king, and Asgard as I can. I have no interest in the minutia of everyone’s lives. I seek only to ensure that Asgard is safe from harm.”

“Yet to do that, you must watch everyone, because anyone could be a threat. Which means you spy on everyone in the whole universe, and terrify so many in the Nine Realms by simply existing –even when they have nothing to hide. Isn’t that rather cruel?”

“It is not intended that way,” said Heimdall, his stomach clenching and his hands squeezing the hilt of his sword.

“It never is. Asgard intends to be a benevolent eye upon us all, bringing peace and comfort. Yet all it does it drive us all mad, looking over our shoulders to see who might be coming for us. But no more –now it’s your turn.”

Heimdall whirled around, his sword swinging with him.

CLANG!

Heimdall’s breath caught as his sword hit Hoder’s seemingly wooden cane mid-air and halted in place. Hoder smirked, his wizened face crinkling and his pale eyes flashing with seiðr.

“Not what you were expecting Heimdall?”

“Why are you doing this?” asked Heimdall, although he had no idea what this was.

Hoder laughed, and swiped his arm sideways, forcing Heimdall’s sword out to the side. “Because it is time for a new order… one where Asgard is under the heel of my master.”

“Master?”

Hoder hummed and his skin seemed to ripple. It paled to alabaster white, his ears elongated into points and his hair became bleached. Heimdall growled and dragged his sword out of the pin and held it aloft in front of him.

“Who are you? Where is the real Hoder?”

Hoder’s smile softened and he shook his head, “Oh my dear Heimdall, I am the only Hoder there ever was.”

“Impossible, Hoder has served Odin since the beginning!”

“Hmmm, yes, I have done my job very well. Sitting there, listening to Odin spew ideals that he uses to justify his murderous impulses. Watching as Asgard grew ever more powerful and cruel on top of the other realms, over my home. My master will see him dead when he comes.”

“You think to kill me so you have the power over the Bifrost? Without me or the king, it won’t work.”

“Then it’s a good thing I don’t want to use it.”

Heimdall’s confusion must have shown on his face, because not-so-sightless Hoder snickered and shook his head.

“There are other ways to slip into the realms –ways the Bifrost harnesses and holds shut. Without this glittering bridge those portals that litter the universe will be free… free for anyone who knows where they are.”

Heimdall’s blood ran cold as he glanced at the bag Hoder had set on the floor. It had opened slightly in the tussle between them and Heimdall could see black orbs inside, glowing a soft green.

“The king’s Crochan Orbs…” he murmured.

“It’s a pity about the king’s health –if he hadn’t been so distracted by his illness, he might have questioned my master being so generous with them. It seems a shame to waste so many on the Bifrost, but Asgardian technology is as stubborn as they are.”

Heimdall lunged for the bag, intending to throw it over the edge, but Hoder was quicker. His cane came under and up, striking Heimdall in the cheek. Lightning bolts of electricity seared through Heimdall, blinding him and drawing a scream of agony from the stoic man. He could feel his body soaring through the air in an arch, until he crashed back to the ground. As he lay there, dazed, his body twitching over and over with electric jolts, he tried to open his eyes.   

“The after-effects are almost as unpleasant as the initial strike, aren’t they?” asked Hoder conversationally. Heimdall tried to use his gift to see where Hoder was, even if his own eyes weren’t working, but he could see nothing but darkness. A primal panic welled up inside him as he desperately tried to see something, anything. Over the pounding of blood in his ears, he heard Hoder walk to the bag and pick it up. The Crochan orbs made a dull sound as they clinked together.

“Asgard will fight!” Heimdall shouted, “Asgard will fight until the end. They will defeat your master, no matter the cost.”

Hoder snorted, “You’re amusing Heimdall, you’re a Vanir, not an Aesir, and yet even you think Asgard is the beginning and end of all ambition. Asgard is simply in the way of my master’s greater plans.”

Heimdall struggled to regain control over his limbs as he listened to Hoder move around, seemingly setting orbs around the observatory. He blinked furiously and gradually his vision began to return, as did his control. He flexed his legs and threw himself sideways, rolling over onto his stomach. He squinted towards the light, and he saw Idavoll, framed by the entrance to the Observatory. Hoder was setting more orbs on the Bifrost itself. The pain of the electricity made his muscles scream in protest as he lifted himself to his hands and knees. Hoder paused and glanced at him. His pale eyes narrowed and he set two more orbs down before running towards the lock of the Bifrost, picking up Heimdall’s discarded sword as he went.

“I won’t waste time gloating, though I have longed for this day for millennia, I shall not allow hubris to delay me.”

He thrust the sword down into the lock, and the motors inside the machine began to turn. Summoning all his strength, Heimdall launched himself at Hoder, grabbing the hilt of his sword and shoving the Dökkálfar away. He hauled the sword out and the motors stopped. He whirled around and brought the sword down, prepared to cut Hoder in half. The cane came between them once more, catching the sword and pushing back against it. Heimdall could not believe that Hoder was that strong, how was he doing this?

Hoder’s foot collided with Heimdall’s knee with a sickening crunch, and Heimdall’s leg buckled for a moment, Hoder pushed the sword away and jumped to his feet, taking on a battle stance.

“Come on then Heimdall, let us take the measure of you!”

They fought, sword against cane, sparks flying as Heimdall forced Hoder back and back.

“Pathetic! The guardian of Asgard cannot even beat a single Dökkálfar. What use are you?” Hoder laughed, catching the sword on the cane and spinning sideways, forcing Heimdall to stumble. The cane tip whipped across his back and searing pain cut through his spine. Heimdall roared and spun around. He feinted a downward swing with his sword, causing Hoder to raise his cane once more, only to swing outwards and stab inwards. Hoder’s eyes widened comically as the sword pierced his gut and he stood there for a moment, cane still held aloft. He looked down at the sword piercing him and Heimdall felt a wave of relief as he looked to the Observatory, still there.

Then Hoder laughed.

“Just… just what do you think I was planning on doing with the sword and lock?”

Heimdall frowned and turned back to him, Hoder laughed again.

“Look where you stand, All-Seeing Heimdall.”

Heimdall looked. He was out of the Observatory, a quarter of the way down the bridge… and the Crochan Orbs where still inside.

“No!”

Hoder’s laugh followed him as he ran for the Observatory –but there was a flash of green, a rush of air, and an almighty boom as the Observatory exploded like a supernova. The shock wave seared Heimdall’s flesh and he screamed as he was burned and thrown up into the air.

Everything seemed to have gone silent and he managed to open his eyes in time to see pieces of the Bifrost fly through the air around him, falling with him.

Heimdall hit the waters of Asgard, and knew no more.

**~*~**

The explosion of the Bifrost caused a shock wave that rippled outward in every direction, a rolling wave of heated air that struck Idavoll before the explosion had been really registered by anyone. The whole city would have bowed to it if it had the ability, but the buildings stood solid and were all the worse for it as every window exploded, walls cracked, ground crumbled and people were picked up and tossed about. The wave carried right through to the great mountains, which were shaken and cracked as easily as the walls, snow on the top melting at once and flowed downwards towards the city, catching animals and people alike in the wave, rocks tumbling behind it until they hit level ground with a series of crashes.

There was a moment of silence, then a loud, mournful groan, and the observatory, a great work of gravity defiance, its departments floating above the ground and water, rotating gracefully, lost its precarious balance and collapsed to the ground, taking its technology and residents with it.

In the city, dazed and wounded people started screaming, running in every direction, mothers clinging to squalling babes and frantic children trying to dig parents out from under rubble. Thralls, arms weighed by manacles bearing Loki’s symbol, all ran towards the palace, seeking safety. Very quickly the other people started to follow them, seeking their king’s protection.

**~*~**

In the Healing Wing, Eir and her healers rushed to bind Loki down onto the bed so they could scan him without his fits causing harm. The king seemed to be having trouble breathing, like his lungs had ceased to work, but a quick check told her he was still taking in air.

“What’s wrong with him?” demanded Sverrir, and he sounded so much like a boy that Eir would have spared him a sympathetic thought if she could.

“Out!” she ordered, “Out now Sverrir.”

“But-”

“My lady wait!”

The doors burst open and Frigga ran in with Kvasir hot on her heels.

“What has happened?” she demanded, looking as close to despair as Eir had ever seen her.

“His control is slipping, the seiðr is trying to sweep him up and he’s fighting it,” said Eir to Kvasir, using the scanner to look into Loki’s molecular structure. She kept one hand on his chest to both still and soothe him.

“Can you stabilise him?” asked Kvasir.

“I’ve sent for an orb, it might slow things down but…” Eir looked up at Kvasir, “I think we’re out of time.”

“For what?” demanded Dag, “What’s wrong? Is Loki dying?”

Eir opened her mouth but a loud boom rumbled from outside, and seconds later, the whole palace shook violently and the windows shattered. Glass rained down upon them and Eir instinctively threw herself over the king’s prone body. The shards stuck into her flesh and she could hear shrieks from the people around her. When the shaking and tinkling of glass finally stopped she lifted her head. The roar of the security alarms blared through the air, deafening everyone as screams and shouts battled with it outside. Her normally pristine Healing Wing looked like a rampaging bull had gone through it. Beds had been over-turned, vials of medicine shattered on the floor, the few patients that had been resting lying dazedly on the floor. A novice was sobbing in the corner, glass embedded in her face and arms. Kvasir had thrown himself over Frigga, glass protruding from the back of his neck, which he tugged out impatiently as he helped Frigga to her feet.

Shaking glass and plaster off himself, Sverrir ran to the broken window. He let out a horrified shout,

“The Bifrost! The Bifrost is gone!”

“ _What_?” Dag’s unmanly shriek jolted Eir and made her remember what she was doing. Loki was still fitting underneath her.

“Someone get me an orb!” she cried desperately.

The door flew open again and her chief novice came running in, blood covering her clothes, from where slivers of glass had cut her face and arms.  

“M-my lady, the orbs are all gone.”

“What? We cannot have used them all up.”

“No, I mean, there are none at all. They’ve been moved.”

“What orbs?” demanded Dag, “What’s going on?”

Kvasir let out a growl of frustration, seized Sverrir by the scruff of the neck and dragged him to the door,

“Go and deal with the Bifrost Sverrir! Until Loki awakens, you are his voice, so attend to that matter and let us deal with this! And take Dag with you.”

Sverrir gaped like a fish at his father as he was thrown out of the room. Dag glanced at Kvasir and quickly ran after Sverrir. Kvasir slammed the door behind them.

“What in the name of the Norns do you mean they’ve been moved?” he demanded of the novice, “They were kept under lock and key save for when Eir or myself exchanged one for another.”

“M-my lendr maðr I know nothing about it, but there was nothing in the room I was sent to,” said the novice. Kvasir opened his mouth to reply, but Loki let out a terrible cry of pain and his back bowed until he was almost completely off the table.

“Kvasir help me!” Eir called, “If we cannot use an Orb, we have one other option.”

Kvasir paled, “It will only delay the inevitable, it won’t stop the process, only slow it down.”

“At this stage we’ll take anything,” snapped Eir, picking up a dose of sedative and pressing the applicator to Loki’s bicep.

“Stasis is dangerous Eir, he could die in there –we can’t guarantee he’ll be able to keep control.”

“The stasis chambers are designed to restrict seiðr as well.”

“Not the whole universe’s -would someone turn that damn alarm off!”

Frigga had gone to Loki’s side and was trying to soothe him, “What’s wrong with him? Why can’t you help?”

“My lady there is no time-”

The door burst open a third time and Queen Aetril came staggering in. She made for a horrifying sight, her wings had been shredded by the glass, and blood left a trail behind her as she fell to her knees, grey with blood loss.

“Fulla!” Frigga called to her handmaid, who ran to the queen and put her arms around her. The other healers split between the two monarchs, those helping Eir dithering helplessly, while those with Aetril set to the task of repairing her wings. Kvasir was still yelling for someone to turn off the alarm.

“-can’t even think! Shut it off!”

A burst of seiðr exploded from his hands and the alarm cut itself off, leaving a tense silence, broken by the screams from outside.

“Now! Eir, there has to be another way,” he said, turning to her. Eir shook her head as she looked to the monitor displaying all the scans of the king.

“Look at him Kvasir, he’s on the verge of complete molecular collapse!”

Kvasir dragged his fingers through his hair, “Fine! Fine! We’ll put him in stasis.”

“No!”

They all looked around. Loki’s eyes rolled in his head and his hands, still bound to the table, scrambled for something, “No, you can’t! You can’t lock me up! I am your king, you will not do this.”

“Loki, please, listen to Eir, she only wants to help,” pleaded Frigga, holding Loki’s face and kissing his brow. “Please my boy, please listen to her.”

“No! Don’t let them lock me away, don’t let them mother.” Loki turned his head to look at her, “Please, they’ll forget about me, they won’t let me out, they won’t remember I’m there-”

“No, no, we won’t. I won’t,” said Frigga, clinging to him and kissing his face, “My brave Loki, I promise no one will forget you, but if this will save your life-”

“No, no please, I want to stay here, don’t lock me away –I don’t want to die in a cage.”

Eir shivered, despite her many years of service. She had heard Loki talk like this before only once. After his missing years, he had woken almost every half hour screaming these same sentiments.

“You won’t die,” said Kvasir firmly, “I won’t allow it, but we need to slow this down, Loki you won’t even notice the passing of time.”

“Odin will wake up, Thor will come back. The family with be together and I’ll be left alone,” said Loki, still looking at his mother. “You regret me.”

“No! No, Loki, I never regretted you,” said Frigga, sounding equally desperate.

“That’s enough,” said Eir firmly, “My Lady, it’s the seiðr, it’s confusing him, and we don’t have any time, we must put him in a chamber now.”

Frigga nodded, but held Loki tight as Eir started barking orders at her colleagues. As she prepared a monitor to keep track of Loki while he was in stasis, Loki’s voice was almost inaudible as he spoke to his mother.

“Sigyn… she’ll worry… I… mother tell her I…”

“Shhh, my son,” said Frigga softly, stroking his hair, “She knows, and when you’re better, and you and I have had choice words about you keeping this from me, you can tell her yourself.”

“You didn’t think you had the monopoly on keeping important secrets about me, did you?” asked Loki, sounding bitter and amused at the same time. Eir raised an eyebrow as Frigga pressed her lips to his brow. “Mother…”

“Just rest, we’ll say everything when you’re well.”

Eir took the opportunity to sedate Loki completely. Frigga had tears in her eyes as she stepped back to allow the healers to take Loki away.

**~*~**

Tyr wanted to go back. The explosion of the Bifrost had thrown him and Heith into a tree, miles away from the city. He could only imagine the damage done to Idavoll, where his wife and son were waiting for him to return. Yet Heith clung to his arm and urged him onward,

“Come my love, you must not let him distract you.”

Tyr nodded, his mind turned to his wife and son again and he prayed that they were alive. His stomach turned as he suddenly thought of what might happen to them if Loki found out about his plans. Wouldn’t Heimdall warn him? Had he already warned him?

No, it was for Asgard he was doing this, and Asgard mattered more than his own personal feelings.

He put his back to the destruction and headed for the coast, with Heith at his side, where a flying boat was awaiting him. It was upturned but otherwise undamaged and Tyr took it without hesitation. He would go to his own lands, rouse his troops, who had been well trained by his son, and return to Idavoll. Once there he would force Loki off the throne and claim it for Odin’s safekeeping. He would restore order and repair the Bifrost, and if he could, he would bring back his protégé, Prince Thor, and his niece, Sif, who would both support his actions. With Thor on the throne and Tyr to guide him, Asgard would be safe.

For good measure, he decided as he steered the boat through the air, he would do away with the Frost Giant Byleist and, perhaps, the Queen Aetril… she would only cause trouble for him later if he returned her home.

Yes, Asgard was for Asgardians only, no more of these half-breeds walking freely. And no more of these criminals being allowed ‘mercy’. Tyr would have them sent out of Asgard, to a realm more deserving of such disgrace.

Heith’s golden eyes were fixed on him and he raised his eyebrows at her. She smiled,

“You look mighty, my love.”

Tyr smirked and urged the boat to move faster. 

~*~

In a singular moment, as he looked over the chaos before him outside the palace, Sverrir felt a rush of vicious hatred for Odin, Thor and Loki. It was their fault, he decided, that things were so bad. The palace was under siege from its own people, with citizens cursing and blaming thralls who got in their way as everyone clamoured towards the great all. The einherjar were doing their best to hold the crowds back, but the sheer numbers of people were overwhelming them.

This, Sverrir groaned to himself, was not his job! He was the king’s secretary, not the king’s voice. The king had never needed a voice before. Still, he would have to do something, as his father had commanded, as Loki would want. And mad at him or not, Loki was still his friend, so even though he desperately want to find his wife and children and ensure they were safe, he moved forward.

“Citizens, there is no need for panic!” he cried from where he stood at the doors to the palace. Dag stood beside him, pale and stoic as he looked over the crowd, who did not seem to hear him. “People of Idavoll, you must calm down.”

“You know, I don’t think they can hear you,” said Dag, his voice shaking.

“What do I do?” muttered Sverrir, trying to keep his face calm.

“I don’t know, they’re panicking and I don’t blame them!”

“They are Asgardians! They should be more composed than this.”

“Oh, like you’re any better!” snapped Dag, wringing his hands.

“I-”

“Calm yourselves.”

The words were not directed at them, but at everyone, and the tone was quiet and composed. Dag and Sverrir’s heads snapped to the left and found Reifer Hodesson standing next to them. Reifer was composed, dressed in his armour, with his hand resting on his sword. Amid the chaos, the damage, and the dust, next to the bedraggled Sverrir and Dag, he looked like a warrior ready for battle.

Despite the softness of his voice, it had a tremendous effect on the crowd, which stilled and quieted at an unbelievable rate, all eyes turning to Reifer. Reifer, however, turned to Sverrir,

“I defer to the King’s Secretary,” he said simply. Sverrir swallowed, and nodded,

“Yes, thank you, Reifer.” He turned to the crowds, “You shall remain calm, citizens. Panic will only make things worse-”

“Where is the king?” demanded a red haired thrall, ducking under the linked arms of two einherjar and running up the steps. Reifer stepped forward to stop her, but the thrall slowed down and stopped several steps away. “Where is King Loki?”

Sverrir opened his mouth to tell the truth, then froze as he realised, to his horror, the truth would only make this tension worse. What was he meant to say instead? His wife had always teased him about his inability to tell a good lie, because his right eye would inevitably twitch.

“The king is already investigating the situation,” said Dag promptly, his voice trembling slightly. “He has assigned us the important task of assuring your reassurance and comfort, while he himself has already moved to the Bifrost to seek out answers. Your safety, the possibility of a threat to Asgard, is his primary concern. So I command you to-”

“Who is it?” called a voice.

“Who destroyed the Bifrost?”

“It’s the Frost Giants!” wailed someone else.

“It’s the Demons!” called another.

“We are already at work to ascertain what happened,” said Sverrir carefully.

“Why didn’t Heimdall send word? Where is Heimdall?”

Sverrir felt a chill across his back. He had forgotten about Heimdall. Was the guardian dead?

“We are looking for answers. For now I command you to return to your homes, assess the damage and try to keep calm-”

“Sverrir! Sverrir!”

Sverrir groaned as an einherjar pushed through the crowd and ran up the stairs, past the thrall and up to Sverrir’s side. Sverrir recognised him faintly as Egill, a commander in the einherjar.

“Yes?” he asked wearily, Egill was panting and bloody, like most of them. His eyes were wild with panic as he gasped,

“Lendr Maðr Tyr! He’s gone.”

Sverrir frowned, “What? The blast killed-”

Egill shook his head, “No, no! The blast woke me up! Lendr Maðr Tyr attacked me, and the other guards.”

Sverrir seized Egill’s arm and dragged him away from the crowd, “What?”

“He tried to leave his house, and when I tried to stop him, he started ranting about how we were cowards and traitors, that we were fools to serve the king –there was a fight, and then his mistress, you know that young one, she did something with magic and the next thing I knew I was being thrown across the room as the Bifrost exploded.”

“So… what are you saying, Tyr’s left the city? He’s turned against the king?” asked Sverrir, the chill growing. Egill shrugged helplessly.

“I cannot know, but… it sounded like that.”

Sverrir stared at him for a moment, then grabbed Egill by the scruff of the neck and dragged him closer,

“You will say nothing of this to anyone, do you understand me? In fact, you are to take a legion of men, find Tyr and bring him back here at once!”

“But we don’t know where he-”

“If he is planning on turning on the king, he must be heading to his lands, his own men are there and they will follow him if he says the right things. Go after him and make sure he doesn’t reach his lands. If he does we won’t be able to make him leave, not without force and that will make a show of him that the king doesn’t want,” said Sverrir in frustration, “Now go and bring him back –even if it’s in chains!”

Egill looked appalled, but Sverrir did not care. It felt like every argument between Loki and Tyr had been leading to this moment, and Sverrir did not dare imagine what the results would be if Tyr actually went and formed an army. Tyr’s lands had the best warriors, because of Tyr’s obsession with battle and strength. Loki had… what did Loki really have? A handful of einherjar and the loyalist men who would not turn on their king, and who knew how many that number actually stood now.

“Go!” Sverrir snapped at Egill when he hesitated. Egill nodded and ran back down the stairs. Sverrir inhaled deeply and then went back to Reifer and Dag. “You!” he pointed at the red-haired thrall who had not moved, “What is your name?”

“Ástríthr,” she replied, “I’m a thrall to the king.”

Sverrir briefly wondered what she could have done to deserved her outlawing, then said, “Ástríthr, take your fellow thralls back to your shared house and remain where you are. The same for the rest of you, go home and assess the damage. Men, ready your armour and swords, and be prepared to be called upon by the king if needed.”

“So we are being attacked?” demanded a man as Ástríthr turned and strode down the stairs, calling to the other thralls.

“The king is already seeking answers, you will have them as soon as we do,” said Sverrir, feeling his right eye twitch. He wanted these people to go away and let him deal with the Bifrost “Go back to your homes!”

“Our homes are broken and crumbling!” roared one man, “We cannot return to them!”

Sverrir blinked and felt a flush of red bloom on his forehead.

“If I may,” said a mild voice. Sverrir looked around to find Mýrkjartan hovering in the shadow of a statue of Bor. “Those who cannot be safe in their homes, could be allocated a single room in the palace, they can remain there until it is safe to return home.”

“… you’re joking!” said Sverrir, “We can’t-it’s never been done.”

“What would the king do?” asked Mýrkjartan quietly.

Sverrir frowned, trying to think about all the other things Loki had done so far. Finally he sagged, “He would probably agree with you because to do so otherwise leaves people vulnerable –and Loki hates vulnerability.”

Mýrkjartan nodded, “What would you like me to do?”

Sverrir shrugged, then turned back to him, “Go and find out what’s going on at the Bifrost!”

Mýrkjartan bowed and disappeared into the shadows. Sverrir turned back and addressed the crowd,

“All of you go back and assess the danger of your houses. I will send out servants to corroborate your assessment. Anyone whose home is unsafe for residence will be allocated a new location for a short-term, while their homes are repaired.”

The crowd murmured its discontentment and slowly began to disperse. Sverrir waited until they were all gone and turned to Reifer, who was still standing tall and proud,

“Thanks,” he muttered.

Reifer nodded, “Of course. Now tell me what’s going on.”

Sverrir glanced at Dag who was trembling again and then beckoned the two with a wave of his hand,

“Come on, we haven’t much time.”

“Sverrir! Sverrir!”

Sverrir whipped around at the call and let out a cry of relief as his mother, Ilmr, Rind and Áki rushed up the stairs to him. They looked a little worse for wear but as Ilmr flung her arms around him, he knew they were relatively unharmed.

Sverrir sent a prayer of thanks to whoever had been kind enough to allow that.   


	58. A Kingless Land

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Without Loki his friends must do what they can in the face of an ever growing threat -and find more allies than they anticipated.

After chaos of the day, the night was unnervingly quiet. It seemed everyone was holding their breath, waiting for the next attack that did not come. After a few hours, the people set to work, or more specifically, Ástríthr set the thralls to the tasks of cleaning the city streets of glass, blood and shards of Bifrost. For the most part the citizens focused on cleaning their homes, tending to the dead, and muttering about where the king was.

Sverrir had called upon the second in command of the Einherjar, Bótólfr, and ordered him to set his men to their tasks. They were to help the healers, scout the coasts for dangers, and Bótólfr himself was to investigate the missing Crochan Orbs. Mýrkjartan returned just as he was about to do so, with a grim expression.

“The Bifrost is utterly destroyed, most of it is floating in the water, heading for the edge, and there is no sign of Heimdall,” he said tiredly to Sverrir, Dag, Reifer and Bótólfr.

“He cannot be dead!” exclaimed Dag, still wringing his hands. “He’s Heimdall!”

“And Odin is Odin, Loki is Loki, Thor is Thor and that really needs to stop being our constant refrain when they prove themselves as vulnerable as the rest of us!” snapped Sverrir, shoving his hair out of his eyes. “Now come on! Where are the Lendr Maðr? They can’t possibly be sitting on their backsides now, not when they have a chance to prove themselves to the king.”

“I’ll go get them, my father would be glad to help,” said Reifer, sitting up.

“There is more,” said Mýrkjartan carefully. The three men looked at him. “The Bifrost was destroyed with raw magic, and I cannot pretend not to recognise it.”

“… you’ve solved the missing orbs question, haven’t you?” asked Sverrir, rubbing at his face. At this point he wasn’t even surprised.

Mýrkjartan nodded, “Yet I cannot think that was all of them. The king had sixty in his possession last I checked, and thirty nine were full.”

“We were expecting more from Lord Malekith soon,” said Sverrir quietly, “I negotiated with Cadoc myself for them.”

“Thirty nine orbs would have been powerful enough to obliterate the city –whoever stole and used them could not have used them all.”

“Then where are the rest?”

“I cannot know, but I will find out,” said Mýrkjartan. He looked cross for the first time since Sverrir had known him. “I was watching those orbs myself, who ever took them slipped by my magical guards as well as Kvasir’s and Loki’s. I will not rest until I find out who did this.”

Sverrir nodded, unnerved by Mýrkjartan’s expression. “Good.”

Then Mýrkjartan’s face softened slightly, “Might I ask after the Queen of Alfheim? I understand she was injured.”

“Her wings were shredded by the glass, but the healers are minding her.”

Mýrkjartan paled slightly, “Her wings… there are many important blood vessels in the wings –they are stronger than they seem. An injury like that could kill her… which would greatly distress Alfheim.”

Sverrir swallowed and leaned forward, opening his mouth to speak, when he was cut off.  

“Uh…” said Dag slowly, a look of dawning alarm on his face. “Who’s watching the Jötun?”

Sverrir blinked at the sudden change of topic, then swore. Prince Byleist was still on Asgard.

“The Casket!” he moaned, running out the door, the others on his heels.

When they reached the Weapons Vault, they found the guards who stood outside dead on the ground, shards of glass in their necks. Dag whimpered softly as they pushed the door open, already knowing what they would find.

The Casket was gone.

“Why didn’t the Guardian stop him?” wailed Dag. Sverrir swung around and smacked him in the chest.

“Get a hold of yourself! You’re a member of the council, servant to the king, not a frightened boy!”

“A Frost Giant has the Casket of Ancient Winters. That’s the stuff of my childhood nightmares,” snapped Dag, rubbing his chest.

“Mýrkjartan, find out how the Jötun got the Casket, Reifer, go and tell Bótólfr that finding the Casket is top priority and for the love of Yggdrasil tell him to keep it quiet!”

Reifer nodded and strode out of the Vault. Dag’s hand wringing had begun anew,

“Gods, what else can-”

“Don’t say it! Don’t even think it,” snapped Sverrir, reaching out and covering his mouth. “I swear to the Norns Dag, the next bad thing that happens I am blaming on you for saying that.”

Dag shook him off, “We need Loki!”

“We don’t have Loki, I already told you, he’s sick-”

“Damn his seiðr!”

“No, damn the timing!” snapped Sverrir. “Someone’s been watching us, they must have waited for Loki to weaken so he couldn’t deal with this situation –Tyr’s treachery would just be an added bonus for them.”

“But who would want to-”

Sverrir gave Dag a withering look, “Are you really that thick? Name a realm and I’m sure we can find a reason for them to attack us.”

“The Frost Giants are obvious,” said Dag miserably, “They caused the distraction of the Bifrost so Byleist could steal the Casket.”

“Too obvious,” said Sverrir irritably, “The Frost Giants aren’t that stupid.”

“Then there’s the dwarves, the dark elves, the light elves, and the demons… maybe when this is over we should do more to make friends with people,” said Dag in a weak attempt at humour.

“Loki’s been trying, but this has to have been in the works for a while,” said Sverrir.

“But Loki’s only been using the orbs since Ostara.”

Sverrir rubbed at his brow, “I know, I know, but… Dag, what if this is Loki’s fault?”

Dag scowled, “You can’t say that about the king!”

“I don’t want to, believe me, I don’t. But…” Sverrir swallowed, dragging his hands over his face, “If this is Loki’s fault he must shoulder the blame, and everyone will say they were right to mistrust him. Think what will happen to the thralls without his protection? What will Odin say when he wakes… I know Loki desperately wants to please him, and if this is his fault… I don’t want that for him Dag.”

Dag sighed and folded his arms, “Neither do I. Remember how we talked about the changes he could do… he’s doing them. It would be wrong for them to be stopped because he couldn’t see an attack coming –especially because he was sick.”

Sverrir looked to the empty pedestal where the Casket of Ancient Winters had rested all his life and shivered, “Dag… I don’t think we’re going to be able to do this. Asgard… Asgard might-”

Dag reached out and clasped Sverrir’s shoulder, “Don’t. We will do what we can, that’s all we can do. Loki… we’ll just have to hope for his recovery.”

“And what do we say in the meantime?”

Sverrir swallowed, “Nothing, we say nothing and act as if Loki is giving us orders, and is just too busy to deal with the people’s fears. It won’t solve everything, but at least people won’t think they have no king. Hopefully we’ll have him back in a few days –maybe even tomorrow.”

**~*~**

Loki was not back tomorrow, or the day after, or even the day after that.

Queen Aetril remained unconscious, she had lost a lot of blood and without a replenishing supply of Ljósálfr blood, Eir could only give her fluids and a small amount of medicines to aid her own body’s healing.

Tyr had made it to his own lands and Sverrir had reluctantly recalled Egill and his men, save leaving two scouts at Mýrkjartan’s suggestion, so they would know when Tyr made a move.

Prince Byleist was also missing –“How can a Frost Giant just disappear on Asgard?” demanded Dag –and now Sverrir had Freyr storming in front of him because, of all things, his wife had gone missing.

“She’s been taken! Abducted! You have to find her!” he roared.

“Freyr, this is really not the time,” said Sverrir, rubbing at his temples.

“My wife has been stolen and you have to find her.”

“Freyr, I’m sorry, but that is not a priority right now,” said Sverrir irritably. He found it rather rich that Freyr would be so wild with ‘worry’ given how he treated Gerd every day, but he did not want a fight, he wanted to do what he could, go home, kiss his children and get into bed with his wife like everything was normal. He had not left the palace since the Bifrost explosion, and had a dozen people, including Dag, Reifer, Ástríthr and Bótólfr bringing him messages about what was happening, seemingly every five minutes. It was unbearable and he was desperate to hand the job back to Loki as soon as possible.

“I insist-”

“Freyr, in case you haven’t noticed we’re a bit busy!”

“Where is the king? I want to speak with the king and not his errand boy!” Freyr snapped.

Sverrir clenched his fists and tried to remember what his father had told him about keeping his temper, a skill he had never struggled with before.

“The king is unavailable-”

“Well where is he? I will speak with him!”

Sverrir growled and said, “Go home Freyr, or I will throw you in the dungeon until the king sees fit to deal with you!”

“You wouldn’t dare!” sniffed Freyr. The arrogance of the man was too much for Sverrir.

“Reifer, take him away!” he snapped, turning away from the man. Reifer started, then stepped forward, seized Freyr’s arms and dragged him away without another word. He was so strong, despite his lean build, that Freyr’s feet slid across the floor as he tried to dig his heels in. As they left, Eir walked in a deep frown marring her brow. Reifer threw his mother a worried glance as he dragged Freyr out.

“What is it Eir?” asked Sverrir, thinking it was Loki.

“I’m sorry to bother you Sverrir, I know you’ve a lot on your mind, but I was wondering if you’ve seen my husband?”

“Hoder? No, surely he is at home, where Loki ordered him to be,” said Sverrir with a creak in his voice that he hadn’t heard since he was a boy. Eir shook her head,

“No, I haven’t been home until today and he’s not there.”

Sverrir blinked twice, and then had a thought that almost made him giggle; Oh no, Gerd and Hoder have run off together in the chaos! Luckily he just about kept a straight face and said, “Well… I have not seen him.”

Eir looked all the more anxious, “It’s not like him to just disappear… even when the court is busy, we keep our schedule, it’s reassuring.”

“I know, I remember how we used to tease Reifer about it, because he had to always make it to your family dinners, no matter what else he was doing with us,” said Sverrir with a weak smile. “Perhaps he has… gone to do something,” he finished lamely.

Eir’s brows came together and she sighed, her steady hands clasping each other, “I… what of your father? Have you seen him?”

“He’s not left the library since you put Loki in stasis –I hope mother is making him eat. How is he?”

“Stable, with no signs of molecular disintegration or magical override, but I don’t know how long it will last. The queen has not left Loki’s side, save when she checks on Odin.”

Sverrir felt great sympathy for the queen, although he had always felt Frigga, a woman of Vanaheim, should have tried to do more to improve the status of women in her adopted realm. Of all the people, she could have done it. He gave himself a little shake and looked at Eir,

“If I see Hoder, I shall pass on word to you.”

Eir nodded and turned away, just as the door opened again.

“Is there a line?” asked Sverrir in exhausted amusement as Mýrkjartan strode in. Eir gave him a weak smile and walked out. “What is it Mýrkjartan?”

“Tyr is on the move,” said Mýrkjartan promptly. “He’s amassed his men and they are moving this way.”

Sverrir stared at him, working his mouth silently for a few moments before sighing and getting to his feet,

“All right, let’s see what we can do about that too.”

**~*~**

Heith watched from her window as Tyr’s army sailed off along the coast towards Idavoll. Her pet had done well to gather such a force, including men from other lands, owned by men like Forseti, who had already sworn allegiance to his best friend. Soon the whole realm would be in a chaos no one but the king would be able to put down, and all the possible kings were taken care of.

It was time for her next move.

Heith reached into her own pocket of space and drew out Dainsleif, still in its sheath. She turned it over in her hands and smirked as she tested its weight.

“You won’t get away with this,” said a cold voice to her right.

Heith’s smirk widened and she turned her head to the speaker.

“Ah, my great-granddaughter. My remarkable gift to the universe.”

Hel’s expression tightened, “I am the gift of my father, not of you.”

“If I had not cursed our bloodline, you would not exist.”

“I have always existed, I would have been born regardless,” said Hel.

“If that is the case, your father needed to exist, so his mother had to… therefore I did too.”

“That does not mean…” Hel sighed and shook her head, “Regardless, you will not win Gullveig. Soon you will be mine… or better yet, you will cease entirely.”

Heith laughed and turned to Hel completely. “Then stop me, if you wish.”

Hel’s half dead face scowled, “You know I can’t. The Norns would stop me.”

“Poor Hela, even you cannot subvert them. Only I have that talent.”

“Don’t be so sure,” said Hel coldly. “I will find a way Heith.”

“And what then? What do you think your father will say when he finds out how you’ve known all along the truth of Fenrir and myself, but did not tell him? Do you think he will still love you?”

A flicker of some emotion crossed Hel’s face and she said, “He will understand.”

“Hmm… will he? He could not even forgive his dear false-mother for lying to him for his own good. We both know he likes to hold a grudge.”

“… monster,” hissed Hel, “It’s no wonder your daughter went mad with your vengeance, you’ve no concept of anything else.”

Heith’s expression trembled for a moment, just as Hel’s had and she said, “I did… then I learned none of it mattered.”

Hel’s eyes dropped to Dainsleif, “I ask you once, to stop this.”

“And you know I will not.”

Hel nodded, “Then I will risk all to stop you –my nature insists I ought to do my duty, but there is another part of me… I cannot ignore it.”

“Then let us see who wins,” said Heith softly, as she drew Dainsleif from its sheath and transported herself to stand on Fenrir’s back. The hulking wolf growled at the weight change, and Heith hushed him, stroking his sticky, matted fur, “Hush now little one, it’s time to fulfil your destiny.”

With care she slipped the sword between Fenrir’s fur and the press of Gleipnir, and pulled. The black blade dug against the ribbon, which tensed, and then snapped. Having been made from non-living parts of living things, to become a fragile thing that cannot be broken, Gleipnir had become, itself, alive. Only the curse on Dainsleif was strong enough to kill it.

It took some time for Fenrir to realise he was able to breath properly, longer still for him to move. He yowled and whimpered in pain as limbs that had not moved for a millennium, started to stretch. Heith waited, she had the time. Tyr need to reach Idavoll first, and she would follow.

Finally Fenrir lifted himself onto his huge paws and took his first, tiny, step.

Heith froze the lake solid and cooed to Fenrir to walk on.

“Come on little one, to Idavoll, and vengeance, for both of us.”

As Fenrir moved her glamour fell away, revealing her golden skin as it truly was. She grew taller, and her build broadened, her face matured to that of a woman and not a doe-eyed girl.

Gullveig mounted Fenrir like a Valkyrie and sent channels of energy into the wolf so he would walk and not hobble along, lifting Dainsleif aloft and crying.

“Onwards!”

Fenrir followed her direction.

**~*~**

Kvasir’s head ached but he kept working. He had to for the sake of the whole realm. He had not felt this sort of pressure since the war with Jötunheim, and that had not felt so personal. There was a man he considered almost a son who needed him to save him, but he had no idea how to do it. Rubbing his brow he stood up and went to return the books he had read, preparing to find more. He passed a table that had been taken over by Queen Aetril as they worked together. There was blood still staining the pages from when the shattered windows had shredded the queen’s wings. Kvasir shuddered and kept walking. As he put the books away he wondered if Aetril had had any more luck before she was injured, but he doubted it. The queen had been as frustrated as he had been at their helplessness.

Kvasir had never been sure of Queen Aetril, finding her discomfortingly forward and her seductive nature dangerous. He knew that the playful, sexual display the queen exuded hid a shrewd politician and a deadly mind and although Kvasir knew Loki to be clever, the queen simply had the benefit of experience that he did not. It was obvious that Loki thought he could handle the queen’s flirtations, but Kvasir was less certain. After all, Loki was as red blooded as any Aesir, and he clearly found Aetril attractive. If he did fall for the queen, or at least gave into her charms and bedded her, it would not be the victory of Loki as most people would think. It would be the queen’s, because she would be more intimate with Loki than anyone else ever had been.

Or, well, that’s what Kvasir had thought, until Frigga had told him the truth about Loki’s sons. Kvasir had restrained his horror and disgust with Odin and Frigga until it was safe to express it, he did not care what prophecy said, it was all guess work –and Odin should have known that most are self-fulfilling. What had he been thinking?

Probably, said a nasty voice in Kvasir’s mind, Odin just wanted to forget anything had happened at all. He may have told himself it was for Asgard to send the boys away, but really, Odin hates things he cannot control, and probably just hoped that out of sight would be out of mind for Loki. Maybe he thought Loki would forget about his grief if it was never mentioned –or at least hoped that would be the case.

Kvasir snorted to himself and pulled down a few books that he half-heartedly thought might have the answer. He doubted it though and wished bitterly that he had been more proactive about other sources, off world. Now the Bifrost was gone, and Kvasir had little by way of skill in ‘Sky-walking’, so he could not make use of the paths that cut through the Nine Realms. Aetril had been suggesting that she could go to Alfheim and Vanaheim, even to the home of the Dwarves and search through their libraries, but Kvasir had been uneasy about letting the truth slip out, because he knew Loki would never want anyone to know.

Now he bitterly regretted it.

As he sat down he heard the shuffling of small feet, and he turned in his chair. A small, blonde boy in blue shoes was watching him from behind a shelf, a white kitten pressed against his leg. He looked familiar and Kvasir had to think for a moment before he recalled the boy.

“Ah! You’re the king’s little friend. Thundi, isn’t it?”

The boy nodded, emerging from behind the shelf, and approached Kvasir slowly. His kitten padded after him, winding her way around his legs dangerously, yet the boy seemed used to this, as he did not trip. He had a few cuts on his face, as most did from the shower of glass after the fall of the Bifrost, but the worry was etched deeper than any scrape on the young face.

“What are you doing here Thundi?” asked Kvasir, “It’s not a safe time.”

“I was looking for the king,” said Thundi, as if it were obvious.

“The king is busy Thundi.”

Thundi pouted, “He’s always busy now. He used to talk to me, but now he pretends I’m not there. He doesn’t like me anymore.”

Kvasir felt the drum of a head begin in his temple. “Thundi, the king is the busiest man in the world, he can’t stop to talk to everyone. It doesn’t mean he doesn’t like you anymore.”

“That’s what my mother says. I don’t believe her and I don’t believe you!” said Thundi, picking up his kitten. “I don’t like the king either! Ever since he made the fire casket, he’s been mean!”

“Watch your tone young man!” said Kvasir in irritation. “The king has more important things to do than play games with a boy.”

Thundi stepped back and Kvasir could see tears forming in his eyes. “I just wanted to show him that Elli was getting big.” He picked up the kitten and held her against his chest. Kvasir sighed, and beckoned Thundi to him, picking him up and setting him on his knee.

“I’m sure the king will be very proud of you, I can see you’ve raised her well,” said Kvasir gently.

“Where is he? If I show him he might be happy –he never looks happy anymore,” said Thundi peering curiously at the books on the table.

“He’s… very troubled. And now he’s even more worried, after all, things are very bad at the moment.”

“Is he asking the Norns for help then?” asked Thundi, swinging his feet above the ground. “Is that where he is? The well?”

“The well?” asked Kvasir in confusion.

“Mimir’s well, you know, the one King Odin put his eye into so he could get smart,” said Thundi with a look of disbelief at Kvasir.

“I… what are you talking about?”

“Everyone knows that Odin was going to be beaten by the Jötun because he wasn’t smart enough, so he went to Mimir’s well and pulled out his eye and threw it in. The Norns told him to hang on to Yggdrasil and it would tell him how to beat the monsters. Is that what the king’s doing? Is he hanging from Yggdrasil?”

Kvasir stared at the boy in astonishment, “Who told you that story?”

“From Eilífr. His brother told him,” said Thundi, clearly expecting Kvasir to know who these boys were.

“So… is that what you’re told? Odin pulled his own eye out to make himself smarter, so he could defeat the Jötun?”

Thundi nodded, scratching under Elli’s chin and making her purr with pleasure. Kvasir marvelled at the ridiculous tale –then again, he could remember some of the myths about Asgard’s founder, Audhumla, being rather similar in nonsense.

“So, how exactly did Odin hang himself from the tree?”

“He just did,” said Thundi.

“I see, well… I hate to tell you, but there is no such thing as Mimir’s Well. There’s just Mimir’s Head and he-” Kvasir snapped his mouth shut as the words escaped him. He stared at his work blindly for a moment, then said softly, “Mimir’s Head… Mimir’s Head… OF COURSE MIMIR’S HEAD!” Thundi jumped right off Kvasir’s knee at his yelp. Kvasir got to his feet and picked the boy up, throwing him into the air –to the great displeasure of Elli, who hissed and screeched. “My boy you’ve just given me the answer! The king will be so grateful!”

Thundi stared at him with huge, frightened eyes, and Kvasir set him down on his feet before he could toss him again. “Go back to your mother, and when I see the king, I’ll tell him you are searching for him.” Without another word, Kvasir ran out of the library and down the corridor. He startled many guards as he threw himself into the Weapons Vault and down the stairs, taking the immediate left and throwing the doors to Mimir open. He stared, panting, at the covered head, stepping inside and jumping when the door snapped shut behind him. Swallowing hard, Kvasir approached the pedestal and before he could think twice, he pulled off the covering and stepped back.

Mimir’s head twitched and his eyes snapped open. “Who dares enter where only the king may?” he roared. Tendrils of seiðr began to crawl over the walls towards Kvasir, who trembled but stood his ground.

“Please, Mimir, the king is dying. I need to know how to save him.”

“Dying? Or ascending?” asked Mimir with a smirk, “What does thou know of such things, little creature?”

“I –I know that he is dying, because he does not wish it,” said Kvasir, trying and failing to keep the tremor out of his voice. “He is being consumed by the seiðr and he wishes to live.”

“And thou believes that I know what will save him?”

“I think you’re my last hope, Asgard is on the verge of civil war, and we need a king. We need Loki.”

“Why ask for Loki? Why not beg for Odin, who would crush all enemies and restore order in a moment. Loki will struggle, he will weep, he will rage and yet none shall be crushed as they ought to be. He is a petty creature, Loki is, he looks at others and sees himself, sees his failings and hates, sees his pains and weeps. His kindness is narcissism, his policies made on the whim.”

“No,” said Kvasir, “He believes this is the best for Asgard-”

“For the Asgard he would have in place of the true form. He bitterly resents all for trying to unmake him into something else, yet is he not doing so to Asgard.”

“It… it is the prerogative of the king-”

“The king is Odin, for he is not dead. Loki is a mere regent in his place.”

“Odin is as good as dead!” snapped Kvasir, “He may never awaken, you said so yourself.”

“Yet he lives and will be king until he ceases.”

“No, Loki is the king of Asgard.”

“He doesn’t think so,” said Mimir in a sing-song voice. “He is looking to the day when he can cast of the shackles and resume his secretive ways –whoring himself out to a woman who will never make him her true husband, because she is a coward.”

Kvasir stared at the head, “What do you speak of? What woman?”

Mimir chuckled, “Ah, you see, even you, dear Kvasir cannot just accept the frost-runt as king. You must mistrust everything about him.”

“I ask because I care about him! Because I don’t want him to suffer –as he is suffering! Now tell me how to save him.”

Mimir grinned and regarded him, before saying, “What would you give for him? I am forced by seiðr to answer the king directly and without payment, but I have no such bonds with a commoner like you. So I ask you, what would you give me in exchange for the answer?”

There was a moment of silence. Then Kvasir swallowed and said, “I will free you from the curse that keeps you from resting.”

Mimir’s eyebrow arched dubiously, “A lie.”

“An oath. I will free you from the curse that keeps you bound and unrested. You will never be forced to answer a question ever again.”

Mimir narrowed his eyes and said slowly, “You know that the only way to free me is to have another take my place. Who would you offer to do that?”

Kvasir hesitated, gathered his courage and stepped forward,

“Me. I will replace you.”

Mimir regarded him and then smirked,

“Very well then, we are in agreement. Seal it in blood, and I will tell you what you wish to know.”


	59. The Last Resort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The enemy is at the door and the supporters of King Loki have only one option left to them to save him.

Dag’s hands were raw from his constant wringing of them. It irked Sverrir no end as he and Dag stared from the palace balcony to the north, where Tyr’s men were making their way across the land. Those who had not sided with him had fled to the city, calling for the king to protect them from the enemy hoard. It had not escaped Sverrir’s notice that most who turned away from Tyr were women, craftsmen, anyone who wouldn’t be a natural warrior.

“There’s still the einherjar of the city,” said Reifer quietly behind him. “And no shortage of warriors who would side with the king.”

“And an equal number who prefer Tyr as a king –have you heard what he is telling them? He’s saying Loki’s not an Odinson by birth, he’s saying he’s a Frost Giant adopted by Odin at the end of the war. Tyr’s claiming he’s a stronger claimant to the throne than the second son! And people believe him!” raged Sverrir throwing up his hands.

“It’s just a way for people to justify what they feel,” said Dag, having given up on his wringing he now bit at his nails. “Anyone who thought Loki was a bit odd can now latch on to this and say ‘see! I knew something was wrong with him.’”

“They’re fools. If Loki’s a Frost Giant, I’m a troll,” said Sverrir, running his hands through his hair.

“And I, a dark elf,” said Reifer, his eyes scanning the city.

“That leaves me with being the dwarf, thanks,” muttered Dag around his fingers. Sverrir smacked his hand from his mouth.

“Would you stop! Norns you’d make Thor nervous with your behaviour.”

“Well I’m sorry, but I think now, of all times, is a good time to be uneasy.”

Reifer pointed a thick finger at him, “You are a member of the council to the king, you will maintain the decorum of that position.”

“Unless it’s to play a prank, because that’s all right,” said Sverrir loudly, mocking Reifer’s stern tone. Dag and Reifer glowered at him and he shrugged, “Don’t judge me, I’m the favourite of the king for a reason, and it’s not for my rationality.”

“And you’re in charge of us all,” said Dag in a horrified voice, “We’re so doomed.”

Sverrir smacked him upside the head as a guard walked in,

“My Lend –uh –Sir Sverrir, the thrall Ástríthr requests an audience,” he said with an air of uncertainty. Loki had never bestowed any titles upon Sverrir, so no one was sure how to address him appropriately. Sverrir waved a hand, still glaring at Dag who ducked behind Reifer. A moment later, Ástríthr walked in. She had shed her standard issue dress for a pair of trousers and tunic that fitted her ill at the shoulders, and her red hair had been braided away from her face. Sverrir was reminded of Lady Sif, although Ástríthr dropped her eyes respectfully as soon as she saw him, which Sif would never do.

“My lord,” she said, kneeling to him.

“Oh don’t do that,” moaned Sverrir, “It makes me nervous, get up!”

Looking wrong footed, Ástríthr stood again and settled for standing to attention, “I have come on behalf of the king’s thralls. We wish to express our desire to stand in defence of this city and realm.”

“… you want to fight?” clarified Dag in disbelief. Sverrir, however, began to grin. There were already seven hundred adult thralls in the city, all of whom Tyr had been training to fitness for months.

“I would gladly accept your offer Ástríthr, and I know the king will be extremely grateful too,” he said at once.

“Hang on!” yelped Dag, “They are thralls, not soldiers. Are we even allowed to arm them?”

“Loki always intended to turn them into an army –at least, those who were willing to try.”

“We are willing!” said Ástríthr, eyes bright. “Our methods may not please you, but most of us are used to fighting for our lives and wielding make-shift weapons.”

“What kind of method?” asked Reifer.

“Methods that are better suited to that spy of the king’s than the mighty Tyr,” said Ástríthr with a shrug of her shoulders.

“Deception, deceit and clever tactics… exactly what we need!” said Sverrir eagerly.

“We do?” asked Dag stupidly. Sverrir smacked him again,

“Use your head Dag, Tyr is crying ‘Honour before all things’ in the streets, his men are all those he oversaw the training of. They follow the rules they made up for themselves, they’ll tell themselves that it is the way to win –and when we beat them with other tactics, they’ll cry foul, but at least we will have won,” said Sverrir.

“But will Loki like that? He did everything he could to avoid war,” said Dag carefully, stepping out of Sverrir’s reach.

“Well… we’re acting in his interests,” said Sverrir, his right eye twitching. Dag narrowed his eyes.

“Sverrir… I hope you’re not taking advantage of the situation.”

“There’s nothing about this situation to take advantage of,” said Sverrir shortly. “We’re just doing what must be done.” He turned to Ástríthr and said, “I’m glad to accept your help Ástríthr, I will have the einherjar arm you.”

“With respect Sverrir, the arms of the einherjar are of little use to us. We would rather make use of what we are familiar with,” said Ástríthr with a smirk. She extended her hand and sparks of yellow seiðr popped off her fingers. Sverrir’s eyebrows jumped up, then he grinned.

“As you please,” he said, waving his hand. Ástríthr nodded and strode out of the room without a backwards glance.

“Sverrir…” said Dag warily, “You’re not… you’re not out to destroy the old order, are you? We just want to stop Tyr, we can’t look to kill him or anyone who follows him.”

“Traitors are executed, that is the law,” said Sverrir shortly, “If the end result is that there are fewer of Tyr’s kind in Asgard, so women and seiðr users have a chance to live happy lives, then I will not weep.”

“Why are you so obsessed with women’s rights?” asked Dag in exasperation, “Is this from Ilmr? She doesn’t strike me as a revolutionary.”

“It’s nothing to do with my wife and all to do with my own opinions,” growled Sverrir, “Must I have been personally offended to wish to improve the lives around me?”

“You seem to have made it personal,” said Reifer.

“Because every pompous man who thinks he is entitled to condemn anyone who does not think like him is a poor reflection on myself, by virtue of us sharing the same sex.”

“Just, just please don’t let it distract you right now,” pleaded Dag. “We need to unite Asgard again, or else whoever destroyed the Bifrost will be sure to take advantage of that.”

Sverrir sighed and nodded, “Fine, but don’t expect me to feel sorry for anyone following Tyr that dies.”

Reifer snorted, “No one would, now if you don’t mind, I’m going to see how the defences for the city are going. The blasters were badly damaged in the Bifrost shockwave –we could literally be reduced to battle with sword and shield like we did before Asgard was Asgard.”

“Oh… that’s going to be so messy,” groaned Dag as Reifer left. “Where’s Thor with Mjölnir when you need him.”

“Wallowing in his own self-importance no doubt,” said Sverrir with a snort. “Thor’s no good to us, he’d side with Tyr in a heartbeat.”

“But Loki’s his brother.”

“And Tyr is his idol. Fickle Thor, the man who cares more for how many people chant his name than if he’s actually being praised for anything worthwhile, would follow Tyr anywhere.”

“Thor loves Loki, everyone knows that.”

“He loves him as a lacky,” said Sverrir sharply, “Far too often I’ve seen Loki dragged off from whatever he’s doing for Thor’s amusement, regardless of what Loki wants. Thor’s a selfish brat, and that is why he doesn’t deserve to be king.”

Dag tilted his head to the side, regarding Sverrir with a bird-like curiosity. “How long have you been holding that in?”

Sverrir flushed, “Since I was ten and he broke my seiðr experiment swinging his new hammer around. He laughed at my tears, called me a girl and hasn’t changed since.”

“Ah… feeling better?”

“Much.”

“Then let’s go do… something useful.”

They were halfway down the corridor when Hlin approached them. Her hair was pulled off her face for the first time since Sverrir had seen her, and she seemed rather bold as she looked Sverrir in the eyes.

“Excuse me, uh, Sir, Lendr… Sverrir?”

At least her nervous voice hadn’t changed.

“Yes Hlin?”

Hlin opened her mouth, only for Reifer to run up to them with repressed panic in his eyes.

“Dag! Sverrir!”

Sverrir closed his eyes as he turned his head to the man. “Yes?”

“Forseti has declared himself a supporter of Tyr! He’s summoned his men to the city, they’re already approaching the gates.”

Sverrir’s eyes popped open, “Forseti? Boring, traditional Forseti? He’s turned on the king? What next, the Midgard Serpent will turn up to devour us?”

“Bótólfr is already leading a legion of einherjar to defend the city, but the numbers are not good.”

Sverrir swallowed around a very dry mouth, then turned to Dag,

“Go with Reifer and sound the call to arms, and Hlin, go and tell the queen and Eir to prepare for injured.”

“But your father wants to see you in the Healing Room,” said Hlin in a rush, grabbing his arm as Sverrir went to turn away.  

Dag stiffened next to Sverrir, who’s stomach dropped, “Loki?”

Hlin nodded and Sverrir looked at Dag, who had gone grey.

“Go, do what I said. I’ll see what’s happening. Go!”  Sverrir pushed Dag after Reifer and took off down the corridor with Hlin, running all the way to the Healing Room. Sverrir was alarmed at how ill his father looked as the older man stood before Frigga and Eir, Gungnir in hand.

“Are you out of your mind?” Eir was demanding as the two arrive.

“This is the only way,” said Kvasir, his voice croaking as he leaned on Gungnir like it was an old walking stick.

“It will kill him!”

“Or it might save him. If we do nothing he will eventually die and take us all with him. At least this way, if he does die, the explosion will be absorbed.”

“What’s going on?” asked Sverrir.

“Your father has a hare-brained scheme to kill the king!” snapped Eir.

“I have consulted with Mimir!” shouted Kvasir, “He said this is the only way to save Loki’s life.”

“Then do it,” said Sverrir at once.

“Sverrir,” started Eir, but Sverrir cut across her.

“Forseti has an army about to attack, Tyr is only hours away, we’re out of time. We need Loki back, and we need him now. So do it. Whatever it is, do it.”

Kvasir gave his son a grateful look, then looked at Eir and Frigga. Frigga, who had been standing protectively in front of the door leading into the stasis room flexed her fingers into fists, before nodding.

“Do it.”

“My Queen!” cried Eir in horror.

“Loki would approve of this method, and I have faith in his strength to survive. Asgard needs him… so do it.”

Eir looked between them all, seeming ready to fight some more. Then a low rumble echoed through the city and screaming started up. Eir looked at the boarded up windows, a strain appearing on her face for the first time in Sverrir’s life and she finally nodded. Striding into the stasis room, she went straight for the chamber Loki had been put in and started the countdown of resuscitation, saying brusquely,

“We may only have a few minutes to get him to Odin’s chambers before he collapses, so we’ll have to hurry.”

“Odin’s chambers?” asked Sverrir looking to his father, who handed him Gungnir as he went to help Eir.

“You know Odin’s chambers are the most protected part of the palace, but the reason they are is because of what is behind his bed.”

“What’s-”

“What he draws from during the Odinsleep. A hole in the Tapestry of Seiðr,” said Kvasir.

“A –wait, you told me that the hole in Asgard was the remnants of Asgard forming to become the Ninth Realm. Audhumla ripped a hole in space to lift Asgard from Vanaheim’s planet and place it among the stars, and he could never close it completely again because it’s through that hole that Yggdrasil flows – _and it’s under Odin’s bed_?” Sverrir’s voice rose an octave in disbelief. He hadn’t really believed the hole was real, it had seemed like a fable, not unlike Audhumla himself.

“Behind it. Odin expends so much energy as king of Asgard because he’s not a natural seiðrmaðr, he has to deliberately pull it into himself, and that’s so exhausting he eventually must rest and replenish his supply via the Odinsleep. The simplest way to do so is to put him right next to the hole,” said Frigga, wringing her hands just like Dag as Eir and Kvasir monitored Loki’s awakening. “He can feed from it and wake replenished.”

“I… is that why Bor had Borsleep and Buri had Burisleep? Because they lacked the genetics for seiðr but needed to wield it? What about Thor, he carries plenty of natural, if primal, seiðr or Mjölnir wouldn’t work for him.” Sverrir was reeling from this revelation. To hear Odin was not a natural seiðrmaðr was like being told he was a hermaphrodite.

“Most people have some predisposition for seiðr, whether mild or powerful, but Bor’s line has always lacked it,” said Frigga, “My blood gives Thor the ability to use seiðr.”

“… this is why seiðr is always derided in Asgard, because the kings didn’t want to let it out that they were the weakest at it in the realm!” cried Sverrir in outrage, “You allowed the suffering of hundreds for pride?”

“Sverrir, be outraged after we save Loki’s life!” snapped Kvasir, “Go ahead of us with the queen, you need to move Odin’s bed aside so we can make use of the opening.”

Sverrir nodded and grabbed Frigga’s arm when she did not move,

“Come my lady, your son would not want you to see him so distressed.”

Frigga resisted for a moment, then turned and let Sverrir to pull her away.

“My lady,” panted Sverrir as they moved through the palace, Gungnir held awkwardly in his hands. “You must be the most powerful woman in the Nine Realms to have produced a son like Loki. We could use your power to put down Tyr and his lies.”

“Lies?” asked Frigga sharply.

“He’s claiming Loki’s a frost giant of all things –and people believe him. Fools!” Sverrir scoffed, but his black humour vanished as Frigga paled to ashen in seconds.

“He’s saying that?”

Sverrir stared at her for a moment, then dropped to his knee before her.

“I beg you my queen, do not tell me it is true. I do not care and do not wish to know. We have to save Loki, and I don’t want any more distractions.”

Frigga squared her shoulders and nodded.

“Come, my husband’s bed will be hard to move, we shall need to use our seiðr combined to lift it.”

Sverrir nodded, re-fixing his sweaty hands around Gungnir and trying to put the queen’s expression out of his mind.

It didn’t matter.

It really, really didn’t matter.

It didn’t.

**~*~**

The sound of the waves crashing onto the beach created a relaxing beat and hiss that seemed to soothe every muscle in Loki’s body as he lay on the sand. Oddly shaped clouds passed over his head and he sighed contentedly as he rolled onto his side and wrapped his arms around Sigyn, holding her close. His mouth sought out hers and her fingers came up to run through his hair. Lazy swipes of his tongue over her lips and teeth sent ripples of pleasure through his body, pooling between his legs. Sigyn’s foot trailed over his calf and she sighed softly as Loki’s lips made their way along her jaw and down her neck.

“You need a haircut,” she murmured as she stroked his hair.

“Now?” he chuckled against her skin.

“I like your hair short, it makes you look like yourself. Longer hair makes you look like you’re copying Thor’s hair.” She cupped his face and brought his eyes to meet hers, “I want you to look like Loki, never Thor.”

Loki smiled and lifted a hand, stroking it along her face, “I am never going to look like him –no matter how hard I try I could never look that broad.”

“I prefer this… I can hold you the way you hold me,” she said, wrapping her arms around his back to prove her point. She sighed against his neck, “I never want to let you go.”

“Then don’t,” he replied, embracing her, “I’m right here.”

Sigyn sighed again and buried her face in his neck. Her fingers ran through his hair, massaging his scalp until he was almost purring, his hips gently rocking against hers in a lazy motion.

“Loki…” she sighed.

“Sigyn,” he replied playfully, nosing her cheek.

“Loki?” she asked, frowning up at him.

“Sigyn.”

“Loki?” she called, sounding far away. Loki pulled away to look at her, but she couldn’t seem to see him.

“Sigyn?”

“Loki!”

A hook seemed to latch around Loki’s stomach and tug sharply, dragging him up into the air and out of Sigyn’s arms.

“No!”

Loki sat up with a shout, Kvasir and Eir calling to him to be calm. He felt like punching them both.

“Loki, come, we have to move,” said Kvasir, hauling him out of the stasis pod and onto his feet. Loki swayed where he stood and Eir held him up. “Oh, we’ll never get there like this. Hang on!” Kvasir threw his arms around Loki and Eir, and the world seemed to tilt. Loki’s stomach rolled in protest as he clung on to the other two. When everything righted itself once more, he had to blink several times to register what he was seeing.

He was in Odin’s private bedchambers, deep in the heart of the palace, and Odin’s bed was… floating?

Loki stared at his father’s great golden bed, now hovering at about chest height.

“Wh… what?”

The bed floated to the side and came to rest on the floor again, Odin seemingly undisturbed by the motions. Before Loki could really decide if he was seeing things or not, he was hugged fiercely by his mother, her arms like a vice around his chest.

“Oh my son, forgive me,” she whispered.

“Mother, what-”

“Come on Loki,” said Kvasir urgently, dragging Loki by the arm towards the wall where Odin’s bed had rested against. Disorientated, Loki stared at the wall, or what should have been a wall of gold, but it was moving, pulsing slightly like a great heart. Kvasir seized Loki’s shoulders and span him around, leaning in close.

“Loki, I beg you, do not give up! You have to hold on until it is done,” he said desperately.

“Wh-?”

Kvasir clasped the back of Loki’s neck, pressing his brow against his. “Please, you have to swear you’ll fight!”

Loki nodded, his head spinning and his stomach turning. What was happening? Why-?

Kvasir jerked and there were shouts and Loki’s chest seemed to explode with pain. He choked and his chin dropped to his chest. There was something sticking out of his heart. A stick –no, it was Gungnir. Kvasir had stabbed him right through the chest, through the heart, with his own staff.

Loki’s mouth grew hot with blood and he could not close it as he looked at Kvasir, unable to speak. Kvasir had tears running down his cheeks.

“It’s the only way Loki, you have to do this, you have to let Yggdrasil take back what you gained, and then you can come back. So hold on, and come back to us, and know I won’t forgive myself for this.”

Loki coughed and blood spattered Kvasir’s face. Kvasir pushed on Gungnir, forcing Loki backwards. He hit the wall –and sank through it into a rainbow of colour. He fell and fell and fell –and then something caught on to Gungnir, jolting it in his chest. Loki’s head flew back in pain, he could not breath and he twitched helplessly as he hung there, colours blinding and deafening him.

**~*~**

“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?” roared Sverrir, grabbing his father and shaking him with all his might, “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?”

“It’s the only way to save him,” shouted Kvasir.

“Save him? You just killed him, you murderer!”

“Enough!” Kvasir threw Sverrir off him and stepped away. “Loki can survive this, he must be drained by Yggdrasil itself, or he will die. This is the only way to do it, and I know he will return to us. We just have to ensure there is something to return to.”

Sverrir trembled where he stood, furious and sick as he kept seeing the look on his friend’s face when his father had stabbed him, when he had pushed Loki through the wall. “You…”

“Sverrir, come,” said Frigga, pale and composed as she reached for him, “Your father has done what he believes is best, with my permission. Now you must come and help protect Asgard’s people.”

Sverrir swallowed and looked at the softly pulsing wall, then at his father. He spat at the man’s feet and stormed out.

“I will never forgive you for this!” he shouted, refusing to hear his father’s reply.

“I know my son.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annnnd -that's it. I'm now completely up to date with my posting of this fic on AO3. Sorry for the wait, but now I'll post here at the same time as elsewhere. This does mean that right now I'm a bit slow on the writing -life is getting in the way, plus these next couple of chapters are dealing with a lot of things and I want to write it well. Hopefully this last update will tide you over until I get the rest ready for posting.


	60. The War Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor's world is turned upside down, Loki encounters an unexpected face and Hel takes matters into her own hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Ugh, these chapters, these chapters… they were an utter nightmare to write. I’ve scoured them to make sure everything that’s meant to add up, adds up. Also, I had to think long and hard about the first part, because I wasn’t sure it was relevant enough to put in, but I decided to leave it.   
> Enjoy!

Frustration steeped through Thor’s veins these days. He was a great warrior, a trained leader, and had learned strategy from his father and brother, even if he did not always employ it the way the latter wished. Yet these mortals, these children, were as stubborn and obstinate as himself about things being done their way.

Director Nick Fury was a constant impediment to Thor’s attempts to prove himself. The dark man would call Thor away from a battle, would condemn his choice of action in both real and imagined situations, and regularly tell him his tactics were idiotic. Sometimes Thor felt like a horse desperate to gallop that was continuously being reigned in.

“You cannot expect me to avoid open combat!” he yelled at the man during a mission briefing on the Helicarrier, “The chance to do honourable battle with our enemy presented itself-”

“Open combat is to be avoided at all cost. It’s too risky, I will not allow my agents to die for a stunt!” snapped Fury. At his side Agent Coulson stood calm and composed, with a stern expression on his face, but a glint of amusement in his eyes that he always seemed to have after Thor and his friends were sent on a mission. Thor did not know what the agent found so amusing, but he had no quarrel with him because he was always polite and respectful to him.

“You and your people are shadows!” snapped Sif, “You hide your faces and your purposes, you lie and scheme like thieves, you have no honour and no laws of combat, but we do, and you will not strip them from us!”

“Welcome to modern warfare,” said Natasha Romanoff, leaning on her elbows on the table, “Like we’ve been saying since you joined, it’s how the world works.”

“Then your world is even more primitive than I had imagined,” said Sif. “How do you protect your people without laws of warfare?”

“We have them, we have hundreds of them, but you’re talking about open war, which no one wants,” said Romanoff calmly. “These days most warfare is guerrilla and terrorist based –which is illegal but that doesn’t stop them.”

“And how long does this make it last? Why not just have a battle and be done with it?” asked Fandral, sitting next to the standing Thor and Sif.

“Because the damage would be catastrophic,” said Captain Rogers, “We’ve developed too many weapons that would destroy the whole world if they were unleashed, and we’ve already seen what we can do to ourselves if we’re not careful.”

“So this secretive manner is better? With you constantly looking over your shoulder?”

“We’re a preventative measure,” said Fury, which always made Captain Rogers squirm uncomfortably. The tensions in the so called Avengers weren’t limited to the aliens at the table. As well as Captain Rogers and Agent Romanoff, there was Agent Barton who was always at Romanoff’s side. Then there were two consultants, Tony Stark and Bruce Banner, who were both displeased to have been dragged into the Initiative, but had been persuaded by Romanoff. Thor had spent very little time with the two, having spent much of his time being trained by Romanoff and Barton.

Thor shook his head in exasperation. How was he to prove himself worthy if he was not allowed to fight?

“I-”

“Sir?” Agent Hill strode up to them, “You might want to see this?”

Hill never interrupted them so Fury instantly moved to hear her report. Coulson gave them all a bracing smile and followed. The others all shared a look and rose to follow.

They emerged into the bridge of the Helicarrier and all of them came to a dead stop, staring through the window. Above them, a circle of shimmering colour was writhing above the clouds.

“What is that?” demanded Fury, striding towards his usual station.

“Unknown sir, however…” Hill gave Thor and his friends a wary look, which instantly peaked Thor’s attention. “The readings are not dissimilar to what our satellites picked up when our Asgardian friends arrived.”

“You mean when the Bifrost sent us down?” asked Fandral at once as Thor’s heart jumped.

“They’re not the same, much more unstable, but definitely similar.”

“Have you seen this before?” asked Fury, turning to Thor.

“No, never,” said Thor, “It’s not the way the Bifrost operates. It’s a quick act of power, dropping down to the ground. It does not move that way, nor does it linger like this. If it is the Bifrost then something must be wrong, for I have never known it to do this.”

“Incoming!” yelled a man. Thor looked up. Something glittered as it tumbled from the sky, small at first, then quickly growing larger as it got closer.

“Evasive manoeuvres!” shouted Fury. The Helicarrier lurched, but it wasn’t quick enough to avoid the strike. The object clipped the starboard side and the whole vessel tilted. Sif collided with Thor and they fell to the floor. The Helicarrier’s alarms were blaring and Fury was roaring, but very quickly the ship righted itself and the noise dulled down. Thor nudged Sif off him and got to his feet. “Damage report,” Fury called.

“The bulkhead has been seared by the… whatever it was, but doesn’t look like anything major was damaged, the engines and other support systems are still in place,” said Hill, wiping at a cut on her temple.

“What the hell was that?” asked Barton, already moving to the starboard window. “It’s landed in the water… seems to be floating, sir.”

“Stark, take your suit and go see what that thing is, until we’ve sealed that hole, we can’t land this thing,” said Fury.

“Hey, I’m not an errand boy,” said Stark irritably.

“Are you seriously passing up the chance to check out something from an alien world?” asked Banner quietly behind him.

“… Good point.” Stark disappeared without another word, only pausing to hand his packet of blueberries to Fandral.

“Any theories Thor?” asked Fury. Thor swallowed and said quietly,

“It looked like a piece of the Bifrost, but that is… it shouldn’t be possible. The Bifrost is… I cannot believe…”

“You think your bridge might have been destroyed?” asked Romanoff softly.

“No, it can’t be,” said Volstagg in a shaking voice. “I mean, it’s ridiculous. If it has been… then we won’t be able to go home.”

“If it has, Asgard must be under attack,” said Sif, looking to Thor with a wide eyed desperation, “Thor…”

Thor shook his head, “No, Asgard isn’t, it can’t be… if it is Loki can handle it –I mean, it can’t be the Frost Giants, can it?” Thor couldn’t speak properly. He could barely think. The shard of the Bifrost seemed to have disorientated him, because he could hardly understand what was being said to him. “No… no… I can’t… I can’t…”

He sank to his knees, gasping for breath. Sif and Fandral rushed to his side and held him up, but their words made no sense. Asgard was under attack, Asgard was unreachable.

“Loki… what have you done?”

**~*~**

Fire was scorching his veins, quickly followed by ice burning deep inside his bones. With every frantic beat of his impaled heart Loki shrieked and begged for mercy, his head thrown back, his vision flaring from blackness to white to all colours attacking his mind, pricking at it, pulling at his thoughts so he could not hold onto them.

“Please! Please!” he begged to anyone who might hear him. “Please!”

He wanted it to stop, he wanted to go home, he wanted to die, he wanted his children, his wife, his mother, brother, father –anyone!

His hands clawed at Gungnir, trying to pry it out, but it had pierced him right through his back and he hung like a spitted animal, with his feet kicking violently in relentless spasm. Inside his chest, Gungnir shifted and twisted with every movement, pulling and stretching the soft tissue of his heart and lungs, sending lightning bolts of agony through his torso.

“Please, someone, someone help me!”

His head was spinning, he gagged and choked on blood, sobs catching in his throat.

“Please, Sigyn… Mother… Thor… Someone.”

He tried to call upon his magic, to draw it around himself so he could set himself free, but he could feel the tendrils of deep, relentless seiðr sucking on his own veins, drawing the seiðr out of his body.

“No… no…”

He could feel his strength slipping away, his hands too heavy to pull anymore, they fell by his sides and his head dropped back. He was dimly aware of tears leaking from his eyes and rolling down his face.

“Sigyn… Hela… Fenrir… Jörmungandr…”

**~*~**

Hel Lokadottir had spent her whole existence waiting for this moment. She had come into existence with the universe, knowing she would have to watch her own birth, her mother’s death and her father’s grief. She knew her brothers would suffer, and she knew she could not tell her father the truth about how much she knew. Even visiting him had been a risk, but she had not been able to stay away anymore. Now, as she listened to her father screaming for help, she did the only thing she could.

She went to Midgard to find her brother.

The ice cracked under her feet as she stormed into the realm, scattering the panicked penguins. She forced the hole wide open in the ice and hurled a summoning spell down to the ocean.

“Time’s up Jörmungandr! You are a part of this family and you will defend it,” she shouted down the steaming tunnel. There was a deep rumble and a roar, and with a small boom of air pressure, Jörmungandr’s head erupted from the ice, his long, thrashing body following. With a wave of her hand, Hel unspooled the seiðr that locked Jörmungandr in his snake form, forcing him to shrink down to his Aesir shape.

“Let go!” roared Jörmungandr as Hel dropped him to the ice.

“No! You’ve done enough running away. Our father, our brother, are in terrible danger, I need your help,” shouted Hel, reaching out with her hands and grabbing him by the shoulders. “Jörmungandr, please, look at me!”

Jörmungandr looked everywhere but at her for the longest time, until Hel cupped his ear and said, “Listen to him! Listen to our father.”

Loki’s voice echoed around them, calling for help, calling for Hel, for Jörmungandr. At the call of his own name, Jörmungandr’s filthy, barnacled face crumpled into pain and he tried to shake himself free. Hel held on to him, forcing him to listen.

“Listen to him Jörmungandr, this is the call he has been making all your life, begging for you to come to him. You are the only one of us who actually could go to him, who could be loved by him and raised by him, and you threw it away!”

“He killed mama! He ate her heart!” shouted Jörmungandr, shoving at her hands. “He cut her again, and again, he ate her heart! He did it, I saw him do it. He went away, and I called for him, for mama. No one came. Why didn’t he come?”

“Why didn’t you come when he called for you?” asked Hel, “Because you were angry? Because you were scared? Because you hated him? Do you think this is why he wasn’t there when you called? Because he was angry with you, that he hated you, like you hated him?”

Jörmungandr lowered his gaze, scratching at a particularly big barnacle on his cheekbone. Hel drew him close and put her healthy arm around his shoulders. Jörmungandr hesitated, then sank against her, and clung on tight, sniffling hard. Hel rested her cheek against his matted, stinking hair, and sighed softly.

“Papa never hated you, never wanted you gone. What he did was horrible, but he did it because he wanted to save us… mother was a cruel woman, and he wanted to give us everything, even at the cost of his own life.”

“Everything was blood,” said Jörmungandr against her, “Mama… why did she have to go?”

“… it was her time,” said Hel softly. “Just like it is your time now. Your time to save our father, save our baby brother.”

“Fenrir?”

Hel nodded, pulling Jörmungandr’s face so he was looking up at her, smiling sadly, “I cannot be raised by our papa, but you can, and so can Fenrir… but you have to go and help them both.”

Jörmungandr’s eyes were wet with tears as his throat convulsed. Hel let him go and turned, opening the portal to Asgard. She took Jörmungandr’s hand and they stepped towards the portal.

“Not another step Death-Queen.”

Hel froze, then looked over her shoulder. Her half-lips formed a thin line.

“Run Jörmungandr, go and save our family. Go!”

Jörmungandr did as she said, throwing himself into the portal and disappearing in a shimmer of green and purple. Hel dropped her shoulders and turned full to face the three women standing before her.

“I had to do it.”

The middle one smiled, her face creasing with soft lines, “As must we.”

They each lifted a hand and Hel closed her eyes as she felt their seiðr weave around her.

“Please Papa,” she murmured, “Don’t let them win.”

Darkness crept up on her, and she unclenched her two hands, feeling the chill sting her exposed bones and the fire scorch her skin.

“Don’t let them win.”

**~*~**

After what felt like years of screaming, Loki had gone silent, his head lolling forward in exhaustion as Yggdrasil unspooled the last vestiges of his seiðr. He could feel his mind slipping away with the magic, taking him from himself, unpicking all that made him Loki.

Before his eyes he saw flashes of faces, eyes, smiles; he heard soft whispers of voices, songs, laughter.

Biting his lip, Loki felt a sob well up in his chest, catching on Gungnir, and sending bolts of pain through him, making him cough raggedly.

He was going to die. Loki knew it. Whatever Kvasir had tried to do it save him, it had failed. He had nothing left to give.

“You have everything left to give.”

Loki blinked and tried to lift his head, but it was as heavy as a sun and his chin dropped to his chest. A pale, long-fingered hand appeared in his vision and touched his chin, lifting it up to meet a pair of green eyes that were extremely familiar, but only because he’d seen them in the mirror every day of his life.

A second hand touched his chest and Gungnir erupted into flames. Loki shrieked, his head snapping back, body going ridged. His screaming was swallowed by the darkness, unheard and uncared –and then it stopped.

Loki’s feet hit something solid and he collapsed into a heap, gasping and trembling as his hands scrambled for his chest; where no wound existed.

“I… I don’t…” he gasped, sitting up and craning his neck to see his chest. It was smooth and unblemished. Gungnir was gone, there was nothing to suggest that he had ever been pierce with it. Loki felt his stomach turn, and he looked around again.

“Am I dead?”

“No.”

Loki’s head snapped around. A woman stood over him. Tall, lean, with perfectly coifed black hair and an ice blue dress, she was the image of an elegant queen. Extending her hands, she smiled at him, “Loki… my son.”

“Bergdís?” Loki gasped. She laughed, a soft, charming sound that made his belly feel warm.

“If you wish to call me that… it is what your father called me. Or Gróa, as the name I was born to. Or even mother. After all, that is what I am to you.”

Loki swallowed and did not answer as he took her hands and let her help him stand. She cupped his face, smiling tenderly as her thumbs brushed his cheeks, “Oh, look at you. My brilliant son, you are more handsome than I could have asked for. But then I always knew you would be, our family was renowned for its beauty.”

“Where are we… mother?” asked Loki, choosing the title as the most appealing to her. It worked, she beamed at him, resting her hands on his shoulders.

“This is Yggdrasil, well a form of it that you can perceive.”

A chill spread through Loki’s body and he touched the flesh which Gungnir had pierced, “So… I am dead?”

“No… not unless you chose to die.”

“Choose?”

Bergdís shook her head and released his face, “I will explain all, but I beg you to indulge me. I have waited for this moment for so long, allow me to enjoy it for a little more.”

Loki nodded, feeling uneasy but needing answers. Bergdís took his hand and they started walking. Loki could feel nothing under his feet, yet they seemed to walk in a straight line.

“Where are we?” he asked again, looking around at the gloom.

“Hmmm… how to explain?” Bergdís hummed, linking her fingers with his and tucking her other hand into his elbow. “Imagine that Yggdrasil is a body, and the Nine Realms are its organs. We are inside its blood, which passes through everything in the body. This is where seiðr flows, where fate is spun, where the Norns dwell.”

Loki peered around, “The Norns? Are they not in the roots?”

“Is the truth ever so simple?” asked Bergdís with a smirk.

“Why do I feel that’s a leading question?” asked Loki lightly. Bergdís laughed.

“Clever boy.” Bergdís waved her hand and two thrones appeared out of the gloom. “Come, let us talk.”

They sat facing each other and Loki narrowed his eyes at the woman who had borne him.

“So… what are you exactly? I’ve seen your body, if you’ll forgive me, so I know you are dead… or are you more?”

“So much more,” she sighed, running a hand down her own arm. She peered through her eyelashes at him, almost coy or seductive. Loki shifted nervously and was relieved when she spoke again. “I suppose my clever boy know how I died.”

“Kvasir killed you, on the order of Queen Skadi and King Njordr, because you were deemed too dangerous to live,” said Loki in his most neutral voice.

“Ah yes, it would seem you have shared a similar fate, even at the hands of the same man.”

Loki swallowed around a sudden lump in his throat and nodded,

“He did what he though would help me. He would have done it if he had any other option, I’m certain.”

“Really?” asked Bergdís, smirking slightly, “Because he seems to be fond harming our bloodline. Perhaps it’s a good thing he knew nothing about my grandsons for so long.”

Loki went ridged and stared at her.

“Meaning?”

“Your dear Frigga-Mother has told him the truth –right before they locked you away.”

Loki shivered and shook his head, “I’m dying. They are trying to save me.”

Bergdís shrugged, spreading her hands, “You know them better than I.”

Loki wiped his fingers over his lips. Bergdís reached out and took his hand, smiling gently.

“You have questions, so ask me and I will answer what I can.”

She was extremely beautiful, thought Loki, like something delicate and dangerous with a calculating stare. Her eyes, he had noted, were green, just as he had imagined when Helblindi had first revealed her body to him. Green and swirling with power, she looked exactly like the kind of person who could lead realms to ruin, or possibly to unimaginable heights. There were dozens of questions he could ask, but he gave voice to the one he had wondered ever since he had first learned of her.

“Why Laufey? Why did you pick him out of all the possible mates?”

Bergdís smiled again, tucking a hand under her chin. “Did you ever meet your father in a time of peace?”

“No.”

“Then you would not have seen him at his best. When I came to Jötunheim, I just wanted to learn of their seiðr, I sought out their greatest mages. But even before the war with Asgard, Jötunheim was a reclusive culture and so I naturally attracted attention, including Laufey’s. Despite our physical differences, we found we were very alike in mind and so we fell in love.”

Loki nodded, squirming slightly as he decided he didn’t really want to hear this. Bergdís smirked, leaning forward,

“I’m sure you’re wondering exactly how we… managed to make you.”

“I’d… prefer not to know.”

Bergdís laughed and sat back, “Such a typical Aesir reply.”

“Well I was raised by them,” said Loki carefully, watching her face shift into something dark for a moment, then reassert into a smile.

“You can clothe a wolf in sheep’s clothing, he will still be a wolf, given over to his nature.”

“Is that how you would have me? A wolf?” asked Loki, arching an eyebrow.

“Wolves are magnificent, as you were always going to be,” said Bergdís.

“Hmm, yes, I read your notebook. You seemed to have great plans for me,” said Loki carefully.

“Isn’t that what every parent wishes? For their children to exceed them?” asked Bergdís softly, running her fingertips over his palm. Loki swallowed and pulled his hand free.

“Would every parent retard their child’s growth in the womb? Expose them to dangerous levels of magic for years?”

Bergdís reached out and took his hand again.

“You were never in any danger, I swear to you. I made sure nothing harmful came close to you, only things that would keep you strong, make you great.”

“You had no way of knowing what would happen,” said Loki, turning away. “I was just an experiment to you.”

“No,” said Bergdís fiercely, squeezing his hand. “You were my child, the child of my husband, whom I loved. You meant the world to me, which is why I begged Kvasir to spare you when he came to kill me, I made him swear to spare your life. He fully intended to kill you too.”

“He said he chose to let me live out of compassion,” said Loki sharply.

“He lied, like they lied about your origins, your children and your destiny. Don’t you see, you owe them nothing.”

Loki swallowed and pulled his hand away once more. They were quiet for a moment, as Loki pondered what she had said. Bergdís waited patiently, watching him avidly. Finally, Loki lifted his head and met her gaze. 

“You mentioned a choice, what did you mean?”

Bergdís’ smiled and she rose to her feet, crossing the short distance between them so she could press her hand to his heart. “Right now you hang from Yggdrasil and it is draining you of all your power. You can let that happen, let it drain you until there’s nothing left, or you can make the choice and join me, and become a Dís.”

Cold spread through Loki’s body like water seeping into his clothes and he leaned away from her touch.

“No, Kvasir said that I could be saved if I let Yggdrasil drain me, I know he said that.”

“He did, but he failed to realise the only way to ensure that you did not cease to exist completely is to step forwards and become more than anyone could imagine.” Bergdís’ hand moved up Loki’s chest to cup his jaw again, smiling down at him. “That is your choice, you can either let yourself die, be absorbed into the subspace and disappear.” She twisted her free hand, spreading it wide and empty, then brought it to rest on his shoulder. “Or you can become something more than you could have ever dreamed.”

“A Dís you called it. What is that?”

“It is a being more powerful than any other, more powerful than the Norns, the Celestials, or the Valkyries… it is what I am, what your grandmother became, what you can be.” Bergdís’ smile widened and she pushed some of Loki’s hair out of his eyes. “My darling boy… it is what you were always meant to be.”

Loki stared into her eyes, and found himself fixated on the softly turning liquid colour if her eyes. “What… you said it was a choice of that or death?”

“Not death. Nonexistence. You won’t get to go to Valhalla, or Helheim, or anywhere. You will cease, be nothing and nowhere.” Bergdís’ voice was sharp and cold, even as her touch remained gentle. Loki blinked and leaned back slightly, finding the back of the throne hard and unyielding to him. He swallowed and took hold of her hand, lowering it from his face.

“Tell me about the Dísir?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So… yeah, it’s really hit the fan now. Next chapter is actually written already, I just want to go through it a few more times before I post it. Hopefully this’ll tide you over until it’s ready to go. Also anyone who knows the word Dísir from the comics… that’s not a coincidence.


	61. Keeping it in the Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki finally gets the answers he's been after and many more he doesn't want to know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly think I’ve never been so nervous about posting a chapter, because this will prove if I’ve actually managed to make a coherent plot for this maddeningly long fic or not. All critique will be welcomed and I hope you enjoy it!

Sverrir was trying his best to hide his trembling. He kept seeing Loki’s face when his father –Sverrir’s own father! –had stabbed him and thrown him away. He wanted to go somewhere and be sick, yet he had to pretend that he was fine as he, Dag and Reifer escorted Queen Regent Frigga to the gates of the city, where Forseti and Tyr were waiting for them. Frigga had switched her clothing from her usual glamorous dress to a garment of blue and gold with a breast plate and vambraces, her sword at her hip. Her eyes were flashing with rage as she strode through the streets of her city and Sverrir felt nervous of her for the first time in his life. She looked less like the benevolent All-Mother and more like how Sverrir imagined the Valkyrior looked before their disappearance.

Tyr and Forseti stood at the gates, armed and stern, with a hoard of men standing behind them.

“Tyr,” said Frigga as they reached them, “I never would have dreamed you capable of such dishonour.”

Tyr smirked, inclining his head, “It is not dishonour that drives me, but loyalty, loyalty to Asgard and its traditions. Ones your cuckoo son would degrade and destroy, just so he can weaken us and let his fellow monsters attack us.”

Sverrir glanced at Frigga, and noticed a faint flush of red high in her cheeks.

“My cuckoo son? What exactly are you implying?” she asked softly, a knife edge in her voice.

Tyr smirked and shook his head. “The lie is over with Queen Frigga. I will not keep the truth any longer. My men all know that Loki is a Frost Giant runt, abandoned to die by his father Laufey, unworthy even of monsters, and certainly not worthy of Asgard.”

Sverrir heard Dag hiss in disgust, while Reifer snorted.

“You speak falsely!” said Frigga sharply. “Loki is my son, mine and Odin’s. He is no cuckoo child. And he is your king, against whom you have committed treason.”

Tyr sneered, “He is no king of mine! I deny him recognition, on the grounds that he is a bastard runt frost giant, who gained his throne through deceit and manipulation.”

“He was given his throne by the right of his position and he has done more than enough to earn it!” snapped Sverrir before he could stop himself. Frigga gave him a sharp look and he quelled under her gaze. Frigga turned back to Tyr and Forseti, focusing on the second man now.

“And you Forseti, you have upheld the law of Asgard, and now, with the click of his fingers you come to Tyr’s side like a thrall?”

“I serve the law, laws which your son has thrown away,” said Forseti calmly. Frigga smirked,

“You mean, the laws that allowed you to be a mean little man about how the people of Asgard were treated? No Forseti, you are Tyr’s servant, and nothing more.”

“I am my own man, your majesty,” said Forseti.

“Then prove it and think for yourself. This is madness!” said Frigga. “You’re going to let good men die for your treason. What would Odin say? What do you think Loki will do to you?

Forseti regarded her for a moment, then smiled. “Your majesty… where is the king?”

Sverrir’s stomach dropped, and he tried to clear his face of all expression, as Frigga did, drawing herself up.

“He is confronting the issue of who destroyed the Bifrost –it is of a greater concern than an errant subject or two.”

“Really? I can hardly imagine he would give up this opportunity to wield his words against us… unless he is otherwise indisposed.” Forseti put his hands behind his back, his smile widening. “That wouldn’t have anything to do with Kvasir and Eir’s frequent visits to the king’s chambers?”

Sverrir swallowed against a dry mouth. Frigga was unreadable.

“I speak for Loki in this matter, so I ask you Forseti, Tyr for a final statement. Are you determined to rebel against your lord and king, committing treason and attempting to seize the throne of Asgard for yourselves?”

Tyr and Forseti glanced at each other, then Tyr drew his sword, “We are committed to Asgard’s liberation from the traitorous usurper Loki. We shall slay Loki and keep the throne safe for the true king of Asgard.”

“And who is that? Odin, who lies prone and useless in his sleep? Or Thor, who you would try to use as a puppet? And just what do you think my husband and eldest son would do to you when they learned what you had done to Loki, and myself –for you will have to kill me in turn,” said Frigga, drawing her own sword. Sverrir pulled out his and felt the weight of it in his hand. He glanced at Dag and Reifer, who drew their own weapons, Reifer’s eyes flashing with determination, just like his mother when she was confronted with a difficult situation. When this was over Sverrir would make a case for Reifer becoming a new Lendr Maðr, or at least being given some kind of recognition for his composure and bravery. A movement in the shadows drew his attention as the moment stretched out between Frigga and Tyr. Mýrkjartan was watching from the shadows with a dagger in his hand. Somewhere behind him, Ástríthr and her fellow thralls were lying in wait in the city.

Sverrir squared his shoulders, feeling a renewed sense of composure. They would not let Asgard fall to tyranny.

“It seems we are at an impasse your majesty,” said Forseti coolly.

“It would appear so,” said Frigga calmly, “You will not back down and save what little honour you still have and we will not allow you to drive Asgard to stagnation and extinction.”

“Then we shall battle,” said Tyr, “Call up your forces, and we shall fight to decide Asgard’s fate.”

Frigga nodded and lifted her hand level with her head, and out of the streets marched the loyal einherjar, followed by the equally loyal, but less organised thralls.

Forseti and Tyr’s eyebrows rose up in surprise at the army, but Tyr smirked in triumph and Sverrir swallowed again.

This would not end prettily.

**~*~**

Loki wished his birth mother would stop staring at him like with her big green eyes, it was making him very uncomfortable as seiðr swirled around inside them.  

“Please, sit and tell me what a Dís is,” he waved his hand at her own seat. Bergdís smiled and stayed where she was, staring into his eyes without blinking.

“Tell me, love-child, what do you know of higher beings?” she purred. It was like he was talking to a colder version of Queen Aetril, and that thought sent shivers down his spine.

“Well… there are the Norns,” he began, and Bergdís laughed,

“Oh yes, the Norns, the Norns, the sweet little fools.”

Loki faltered, his tongue feeling heavy in his mouth as he stared at her. Every word sounded like a trap he would fall into if he did not match it.  

“I… well, I know the Norns exist, but there are others, the ones of legend. The Celestials, the Valkyrior, they are meant to exist, but I have never seen evidence that they do.”

Bergdís smiled, “Oh yes… they did exist. Once. Until the Norns eradicated them so that they could be the ultimate power.”

Loki frowned, “The Norns destroyed the Valkyrior? I… I recall a conversation with the Lendmenn that it was Odin. Something about a deal he made?”

Bergdís shook her head, “That was a mere illusion, for although Odin did agree with the Celestials that he would put away the Valkyrior and in turn the Celestials would bless him with even greater power, it was the Norns who engineered it.”

Loki shook his head, “No… that makes no sense. If the stories of the Valkyrior are true, then they were some of Asgard’s greatest warriors. Why would he allow them to be taken away?”

“Because he never trusted them,” she sighed, “The House of Bor does not trust women with power. Why do you think Odin married a lower noble? For love? The man is incapable of such things. No, he picked Frigga because whatever her opinions, she always submitted to his will, and that is how he liked it.”

Loki burned to correct her, but when he thought about how often Frigga had said that they had to trust Odin’s wisdom, he found he could not. “So… what does it all mean? What is a Dís?”

“A Dís is the most powerful creature in the universe, able to influence time and space to their liking, if they so choose. It’s what I am, it’s what your grandmother is, and it is what you ought to be.”

_Grandmother?_

Arching an eyebrow, Loki reached up and pushed her back, feeling very uneasy. “So… my choice is either nonexistence and becoming a god of the universe –and not just one to the Midgardians?”

“Yes my boy, my sweet boy,” Bergdís cupped his face and kissed his brow, “Oh Loki, say you’ll join me, join your family where you belong.”

His stomach gave a lurch and Loki swallowed dryly.

_… where you belong…_

Why did it always seem to come back to that question? Where did Loki belong? On Asgard, on Jötunheim? On Vaneheim? Maybe he belonged in subspace, as Bergdís said, with more power than he had now.

“Who is my grandmother?”

Bergdís’s smile faltered slightly and for a second her seiðr dimmed with something that might just have been fear. Loki latched onto it, reaching out to touch her face tenderly.

“Please, mother, will you not tell me who she was. You spoke of her reverently a moment ago. I should like to know who she is.”

Bergdís straightened up and clasped her hands in front of her stomach, “She… there is no one in the whole universe like her. The things she can do… for a woman born of flesh she is now so high and bright… she shines like gold wherever she is.”

Gold? Loki narrowed his eyes. “Go on, please mother.”

“What more to say,” asked Bergdís with a strained laugh, spreading her hands uselessly, “She is… everything.”

Something told Loki she was frightened of speaking against this matriarch. “What’s her name?”

Bergdís shook her head and stepped back, beginning to pace, “Oh, what use are names when you flow through the universe as a supreme being? A name confines you, restricts you. After all, did I not give you the name Bárthr, which would have defined you as the Crown Prince of Jötunheim and Midgard, and then Asgard and Vanaheim? And then Odin came along and stripped that name from you, called you Loki, so now you are but Loki, Second Prince of Asgard, and even if you held the kingship for a thousand years, do you really think those Aesir would ever see you as anything but the second choice… the last choice?”

Loki flinched, the shard of truth in those words was painful. Then he lifted his head, “You would have invaded Vanaheim too?”

“They would have been ripe for picking, they were so embroiled in civil war that a steadying hand from a Vanir and her son would have set all to right. My darling we had planned to make you the heir to the Nine Realms, you would have put to right every wrong ever done.”

“Including the wrong done to my grandmother?” asked Loki sharply. Bergdís swallowed and her hand tightened around his.

“Loki… you must make your decision. You must make it now.”

“Then tell me what exactly a Dís is, not just some vague description.”

“I have told you all you can comprehend, now you must make the same choice I did. And when I made my choice I had my mother’s help, just like I want to help you make the right choice.”

“Why can I not go home? Go back and live?” asked Loki softly.

“If you went back to Asgard, you would destroy it, you’re becoming more unstable by the moment. if you fail to choose, you’ll explode into nothing, but Yggdrasil will absorb the energy, Asgard will not.”

“So my choices are being  devoured by Yggdrasil, exploding into nothing and… ascending to some other form,” said Loki, ticking the options off his fingers.

“Exactly,” cooed Bergdís, “And you need to make your decision, right now.”

“Why? Why now? What will happen if I don’t make the choice?” demanded Loki.

“Because you’re running out of time and soon the decision will be made for you. My son, my boy, please,” she seized his hands, “Please Barthr, come and be with your family, isn’t that what you wanted?”

“I had a family, my sons… what about them?”

“Your grandmother could bring them here, if you join us. They’ll never suffer again.”

“Why not before? Why make them suffer until now?” asked Loki sharply.

“Oh for –must you ask so many questions?” snapped Bergdís. It was the first time her tone had even slightly resembled the tone Loki had sensed from her journal. Loki narrowed his eyes.

“You know, you seem determined to push my decision in one direction. Now I know you made it seem like it was really the only option, but if it is, why do you keep adding more reasons to take it?”

Bergdís paled and her throat convulsed. Loki smirked and leaned in, “You gifted me with intelligence mother, do not think I have not learned to wield it. There’s a third option, isn’t there? One you don’t want me to take.”

Bergdís narrowed her eyes and any sweetness left in her expression vanished, “Just choose Loki. Choose the power you were born to!”

“The issue there is that I don’t want that power!” snapped Loki, “What I want are my sons, my daughter, my wife and a life with them, with freedom to be happy. That is what I want.” He reared up and starting to walk away.

“Where are you going?” demanded Bergdís.

“I’m going to find my way back to Asgard!”

“You’ll die, and kill everyone with you!”

“Why do you care? Surely that would be good in your eyes? You’ve made your feelings quite clear. So I think I can go home, but you don’t want me to.” He kept walking.

“No! I won’t let you!”

A wave of heat slammed into Loki and he shrieked in pain as his skin bubbled and burnt. He collapsed and moaned in pain.

“You should have just done what mother said,” snarled Bergdís as she advanced on him. Loki closed his eyes and tried to think. They were in subspace, the rules of reality no longer applied, so…

Loki curled up into a ball and sent his seiðr out, willing it to form a portal underneath him. It was surprisingly easy and he was soon falling away from Bergdís screams of outrage. As he fell he found himself lamenting,

Why couldn’t he have just one normal parent?

**~*~**

Jörmungandr felt the chill of the water before he hit it, and instinctively pulled on his serpent form. Hel had suppressed it but it was so familiar to him he could summon it back easily. He swam effortlessly against the tide of Asgard’s seas, poking the top of his head out of the water as he went. A huge golden city loomed above him, and a faint memory told him this was papa’s home. As he approached, there were bangs and screams that Jörmungandr recognised at once.

Jörmungandr knew war from Midgard. War was loud and messy and left blood everywhere. War was dangerous for him because the strange vessels people used were everywhere now, on the surface and underneath the water. Jörmungandr hated them, they upset his dinner and left him hungry.

There was nothing that Jörmungandr wanted less than to go into that city, but Hel had told him to find papa… and as he neared the shore, Jörmungandr felt his heart beat harder as he imagined seeing papa again. As he reached the cliffs, he started to slither upwards, eyes roaming for anyone pointing a weapon at him. As he tipped his head over the edge he let go of his serpent form. At once he regretted it. Everything was much too big now, and he didn’t like having legs. They were useless as he staggered into the city, weak and trembling. In just a few steps he collapsed against the wall, panting. As the bangs and screams continued, he gathered up his strength and staggered deeper into the chaos. People ran around, some with weapons, some holding children. No one noticed him.

Eventually Jörmungandr gave up on walking and started crawling, which he found more familiar and more comfortable. As he went towards the palace, he thought he saw Amma Frigga swinging a sword against a tall man. The closer he got to the palace, the more bodies he had to clamber over, until finally, after what felt like days, he was just outside the palace. Papa was inside somewhere, he knew it. A thread seemed to have pulled on his stomach as he stared up at the palace and he sniffed, rubbing his nose. He wanted papa.

An explosion knocked him over and he curled up in a ball as rubble fell on top of him. As it finally stopped a voice called out.

“Hey! Hey!”

Jörmungandr lifted his head. A boy was running to him, a small white animal in one arm. The other was over his head, protecting him. The boy stopped in front of him, panting. He held out his hand.

“You shouldn’t be out here, come on.”

Jörmungandr shook his head, getting to his feet. The boy looked alarmed.

“No? What do you mean no?”

“Need papa,” grunted Jörmungandr. He still wasn’t used to speaking.

“Well I don’t know where he is, but if we find my mama-”

“Need papa!”

“Well, where is he?”

“Need papa!” Didn’t the boy understand? He was asking him where his papa was.

The boy frowned and looked down at his blue covered feet. Then he looked up and said,

“The king might know where he is, do you want to ask him?”

Papa was the king now, wasn’t he? Jörmungandr nodded.

“Come on then!” The boy turned and led him away, down a narrow passage, “I’m Thundi by the way. What’s your name?”

“Jörmungandr.”

Thundi blinked and clutched his animal close, “Like… after the World Serpent? Why did your parents call you that?”

Jörmungandr narrowed his eyes and did not answer. Thundi cocked his head a little and frowned.

“I’ve never seen you before… why’ve you got barnacles stuck to you? Why are you all dirty?”

Irritated, Jörmungandr shook his shaggy head and grabbed a barnacle on his face. He ripped it off with a howl of pain, as the creature took a hunk of skin with it. Thundi stumbled back in horror, his animal mewling in pain as he squeezed it. Jörmungandr threw the offending parasite away and swiped at the hole in his cheek.

“Need papa!” he roared, looming over Thundi, who shrank away in terror.

“I –I –I don’t know where he is!” he squeaked. There was a low boom above their heads and the passage trembled. Jörmungandr reached out and grabbed the boy’s arm,

“King! Papa king! Where king?”

“I –I think he’s in the healing wing!”

“Show!” barked Jörmungandr. Thundi let out a whimper.

“You won’t hurt the king, will you?”

“Show!” roared Jörmungandr, shoving Thundi ahead of him. Thundi trembled and stumbled down the passage, sniffling hard. Jörmungandr leaned heavily on the wall as he went, his legs aching with effort to stay upright.

He needed to find papa, he wanted to find him.

_Find papa, find papa, find papa._

 

**~*~**

Sverrir had someone else’s blood dripping down his face as he ran through the streets of Idavoll, tripping over bodies as he searched desperately for Queen Frigga. He had lost her and the others in the frenzy of Tyr and Forseti’s attack. It hadn’t helped when Ástríthr had deployed smoke bombs to add to the confusion. Sverrir had tried to stay close to Frigga but a huge warrior had stood in his way and the skirmish between them had nearly lost Sverrir his life. He had resorted to seiðr to protect himself, before jabbing his sword in the man’s side. The warrior had collapsed with a gurgle of blood and Sverrir had been running ever since.

He was running through the city centre when he spotted a flash of blue and gold and turned. Queen Frigga was in combat with Forseti and she was more than holding her own. Sverrir’s mouth hung open in disbelief as Frigga ducked, and swung and slashed with her sword. Her hair flew around her and her face was set with determined rage.

In an instant Sverrir knew exactly why she was Odin’s wife and queen. The loud, easily riled part of him that raged against injustice demanded to know why this side of Frigga was never celebrated, but he told it to shut up. Now was no time to be thinking about rights, not when everything he held dear was in danger of being destroyed.

“Loki… damnit Loki… we need you to stop this –the king of Asgard is the only one who can make this stop,” he muttered, cursing his father.

**~*~**

Kvasir paced through the palace, trying to keep order as women and children fled into the halls, and the einherjar looked to Bótólfr to guide them. Eir was clearly furious with him, but she was ignoring that for the moment as wounded warriors were being carried to her Wing.

“What’s happening out there?” Kvasir asked a passing warrior.

“We’re out numbered,” said the man, “The thralls are keeping them confused, but they are making their way to the palace. We need reinforcements.”

“We don’t have them,” said Bótólfr coming up behind them. “We only have what we have. Tyr made sure we had no time to prepare for proper battle.”

“What is the king going to do?” asked the man anxiously.

Kvasir’s throat convulsed and he looked away, then back.

“He is seeking a solution that will save Asgard.”

“Where is he?” asked the man.

“The King’s location is not your concern,” said Bótólfr curtly, “You will fight and die for him whether he is standing at your side or is somewhere else seeking the salvation of this realm.”

The man nodded, but something mutinous crossed his face and Kvasir’s breath caught in his throat.

If Loki did not manage to come back… if he died… all would be lost.

**~*~**

Fenrir’s temper was fraying as Gullveig drove him on and on towards Idavoll, and he was growling furiously every time she kicked his flanks.

“Go on! Go on!” she cried, eager and impatient. She could see that golden city she had once praised so much looming over her. She was so close to her ultimate victory and she would not let the weakness of Fenrir’s legs stop her.

She could sense her daughter’s rage as her grandson fled from her, but she ignored it. All Bergdís had to do was make sure Loki did not return to Asgard, after that he could live or die for all she cared.

With a wave of her hand she covered Fenrir and herself in a concealment spell as the wolf hobbled out of the forest and headed for the gates. 

**~*~**

Thundi was crying into his animal’s fur as Jörmungandr clutched his shoulder for support.

“Move!” Jörmungandr growled.

“I am!” he wailed, “It –it’s this way. Shush Ellie, don’t cry,” he added to the animal who was mewling loudly.

They walked into a huge corridor full of people and Jörmungandr recoiled away. He did not like so many people around him. Thundi whimpered as they hit against the wall. Jörmungandr sniffed the air, seeking papa’s scent. If he could find that he could leave the boy and make his own way to him.

Just as he caught a whiff of papa’s scent, another smell caught his attention. It was faint, but it was heavy and full of misery. It was also familiar, like Hel’s, a mixof papa and mama. Like Jörmungandr’s own scent.

Jörmungandr let go of Thundi and hobbled forward, looking down the corridor.

“That’s back outside, the king’s this way,” said Thundi weakly. Jörmungandr ignored him, sniffing the air hard, trying to focus on that one scent and ignore all the others.

“Fenrir,” he rumbled, “Little brother. Fenrir.”

“Th-the wolf? Hey! Hey, where are you going?” Thundi called as Jörmungandr, almost in a daze, made his way down the corridor, following his nose. Thundi hesitated, then hurried after him. “Wait for me!”

**~*~**

The cold of the void bit deep into Loki’s bones as stars streaked across his vision. In his desperation to escape Bergdís he had fallen into the Void between space and subspace and had no idea how to get out.  His mind was racing as his hands scrambled for purchase, to just make this descent stop. If he kept falling he would go mad in the silence and the lights. His seiðr was rebounding and cutting through his body as he tried to grab a hold of it, pull it under control so he could stop the fall.

“Loki!”

Loki looked up and his eyes widened in alarm. Bergdís was shooting towards him, her hands reaching, claw-like, for him.

“Get away from me!” he snarled, throwing his hands out and a bolt of raw seiðr flew up to her, catching her in the face. Bergdís screeched and fell back.

Loki threw himself sideways and he began to roll over and over, so the stars span in a dizzying tunnel of black and white.

_Norns! Make it stop!_

“As you wish.”

A foot came down on his hip and the spinning stopped. Loki lay on his side, heaving and trembling, his hair falling over his face. The foot lifted away and he looked up.

A young woman smiled down at him. She was, without question, the most beautiful woman Loki had ever seen, although he could not say exactly what it was that made her so. Her hair was silvery and her youthful skin shifted in colour from palest pink, to warm brown, to darkest black and back. Just looking at her Loki knew exactly who she was.

“You’re Skuld, the Norn of fate.”

Skuld’s smile widened, and she giggled, “Oh, clever boy.”

Jelly-legged, Loki stood up and clenched his fists, “Have you any idea how much I wish to punish you for what you have done to my children?” he growled, feeling a surge of power build in his chest.

Skuld’s smile stayed bright as she shook her head, “That is not my fault… take it up with your grandmother if you seek someone to blame.”

Again this grandmother. Who was she and why did everything come back to her?

Loki let out a steadying breath, “Where are your sisters? Urðr and Verðandi, are they not with you?”

Skuld swept her ever changing arm out and from the darkness emerged two more women. One was solid and strong, and the third was stooped and craggy like an old rock face.

Loki studied the trio carefully for a moment, pondered for a moment if anyone would believe that he had come face to face with the closest thing to Gods Asgard had, then inclined his head, “Ladies.”

Skuld giggled and went to her sisters, linking arms with the middle aged Verðandi. “I like him! Can we keep him?”

Verðandi shushed the youngest, ever changing sister. Urðr regarded Loki like she was seeing inside him, despite her milky eyes.

“Well, well, well. Loki Manyson, welcome to Yggdrasil,” she drawled.

Loki could not resist. He glanced around at the silently pulsing darkness and said,

“I like what you’ve done with it.”

Skuld giggled again, but Urðr seemed unimpressed.

“We ensure you only see Yggdrasil this way to protect your mind. If you were to see it in it’s true glory you would go mad.”

“It… may be a little late for that. From the sound of it madness would appear to be a family trait. My mother is clearly mad and as for my grandmother… well,” Loki shrugged helplessly, a tiny smirk playing on his lips. “Now, not that I’m not grateful, for your hospitality, but why am I here?”

“Because you have a choice to make,” said Verðandi quietly.

“So people keep telling me,” muttered Loki.

Verðandi continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “Right now you are in a state of limbo, your body is right where you left it, hanging from the tree. Your mother removed your spirit from your body to converse with you.”

“Yes… that conversation went about as well as Thor’s conversation with Laufey did,” muttered Loki folding his arms. So his body was still dying somewhere in this unending space. How was he to get back to it?

“We can send you back if you take the path,” said Skuld cheerily.

“And which path, praytell, do the great and powerful Norns wish for me to take?”

“The one you should have always taken, had your mother and grandmother not interfered with you,” said Urðr curtly.

“... is there anyone who hasn’t had their grubby mitts on my destiny?” demanded Loki in exasperation.

“You are something very special Loki,” said Verðandi, “It makes you very tempting to many.”

“I’m flattered, but spoken for,” said Loki sharply. “Just tell me what you want me to do.”

“We want you to go home,” said Skuld, hugging her sister’s arm. “We want you to go back to Asgard and save it.”

“What danger is it in?” asked Loki, his stomach tightening.

Verðandi waved a hand and a shimmering surface appeared before Loki. For a moment he saw his own tired face, then it shifted to show Asgard in complete chaos. Loki watched in horror as explosions rocked the palace, warriors cut down warriors, his mother fighting Forseti, Sverrir and Dag trying to hold off four warriors together. The imaged shifted to what looked like a splinter of the Bifrost hanging limply from the cliffs it jutted out of. The absent Casket, the blood flowing through the streets of Idavoll, women and children cowering in fear.

“What is this?” he barked, swiping at the offending image. It dispersed and Verðandi drew herself up,

“Asgard is at war with itself. Your rule has caused many divisions among the Aesir, and in your absence they have come to a head. Tyr and Forseti are determined to kill you and rule until Odin awakens, or Thor returns. At least that is their stated intention, but they may decide they like power.”

It felt as if all the blood had drained from Loki’s head and he swayed.

“And… they have support for this?” he asked softly.

“They do,” said Verðandi, watching him. “Those who believed as they believe are many in Asgard.”

“Those you have neglected,” said Urðr.

The blood rushed back to Loki’s face,

“Well if they don’t want me, why should I care?”

“What about those who do support you?” asked Skuld, “They might die without you. Your friends, your mother, the thralls… your sons.”

“Might? Don’t you know? Are you not the goddess of fate?” asked Loki in disbelief.

Verðandi shrugged, “Not as people think. We do not set people on a map and tell them where to go. We simply do what we must to keep Yggdrasil in harmony and stability. We care little for the individuals, save when we must.”

Loki stared at them, “So you don’t care what you did to my son?”

“It was necessary to give him a power to stop Gullveig, but we could not prevent her from manipulating the situation to her own advantage,” said Urðr.

“We will not interfere with the small lives of those who live in the Nine Realms,” said Skuld

Loki’s hands clenched into fists, but Skuld reached out with an upturned hand.

“If we were to care for every life and set them on a path… what kind of universe would that be? There would be no chaos, no newness, nothing to keep the Tree alive. We must keep away as much as we can to protect everyone.”

“It is why we had to punish the queen for her actions,” said Urðr, waving her hand to the left. Loki turned his head and felt sick. Hel hung suspended by the arms and legs encased in blackness like viscous liquid, with more covering her mouth and jaw. Loki started forwards but Hel lifted her eyes to meet his and shook her head at him. He paused.

“Release my daughter!” he snarled, turning back to them. As one they shook their heads.

“We cannot. She broke the rules. As Queen of the Dead she is one of us and thus is subject to our laws. We couldn’t let her continue to break them just for love of her family, on this scale that is a selfish action.”

“You see!” purred Bergdís’ voice as she emerged through the gloom and went to Loki’s side, composed once more. “Look at what they have done. They are unfit to be so high. Loki, Loki, my boy,” She grabbed his shirt and made him face her. “Just join me, join your grandmother, we can start everything anew. A whole new universe, a new tree, the Nine Realms reborn.”

“Ragnarok, you’re talking about Ragnarok,” breathed Loki in horror, pushing her away from him. He stumbled backwards, away from all the women around him, including his daughter, trying to think straight.

“Join me Loki, become the god you were always meant to be, save your children from their fates, and let them be with you forever,” cooed Bergdís sweetly.

“Return to Asgard and put a stop to this, allow Fenrir to complete his destiny, stop Gullveig and all will be well once more,” said Skuld sharply.

“What has Asgard ever done for you but deride and disdain you? Insult you and ignore you? You saw how many turned against you because they know you were never really one of them. You owe them nothing!” said Bergdís, advancing on him.

“Enough! I will do nothing until I have answers, and you will give them to me,” Loki barked. The four women halted and watched him carefully, as Loki began to pace. His mind was turning everything he knew over and over, trying to put as many pieces together before he asked a thing. He thought about Fenrir, about Brokkr, about everything he had learned in the past years.

Finally he turned to Urðr, knowing that since she represented the past which was already fact, she would be the most certain of her answers.

“Are my grandmother and Gullveig, whom you’ve mentioned, one and the same?”

Bergdís twitched as Urðr nodded.

“And is Gullveig also called Heith?”

Another nod.

“And is this Gullveig the one Asgard burned for her greed?”

“Not her greed!” shrieked Bergdís, “She was more powerful than any one man in Asgard, and they didn’t like that, so they tortured, raped and burned her. Yet her power was so great that she saved herself and became a Dís, more power than-”

“Yes, thank you, you mentioned that before,” said Loki coolly. Bergdís blanched and snapped her mouth shut. Loki looked back to Urðr, “So all of this is about revenge on Asgard?”

“A petty action, stemmed from madness brought on by too much power and suffering,” said Urðr calmly.

“How exactly was it done?” asked Loki in as calm a voice as he could manage.

“Gullveig, before her original body died, placed a curse on her descendents, at the time there was only Gróa. The blood curse bound Gullveig to your dimension, prevented her from being trapped here, with us.”

“She is not a true Dís,” said Verðandi, `”She is a corruption of one as is Bergdís.”

“Lies!” snarled Bergdís.

“If you were a true Dís, you would not have needed to devour the Valkyrior to maintain your power,” said Urðr coolly, “Nor would you have destroyed the Celestials to keep them from interfering with Gullveig’s plans.”

“A true Dís is a benevolent being, content to simply exist. Yet you and your mother have retained your fleshly desires for power and vengeance,” said Verðandi.

“You ate the Valkyrior?” demanded Loki in disgust, looking at Bergdís, “Then who cares for Valhalla?”

“Your daughter does,” said Verðandi, “It is her duty to care for all the dead.”

Loki’s eyes moved to Hel, who looked back with remorse. He realised she had known far more than she had ever said. He sighed,

“Alright so let me see if I have this right,” he held up his fingers and began to tap off each point as he spoke, “My adoptive grandfather murdered my biological grandmother, who cursed my biological mother to seek vengeance against Asgard, the realm I am currently king of. To this end, my mother started the Vanir Civil War, taking advantage of the frustrations after the Aesir-Vanir war –which began because of my grandmother’s murder. What exactly you were after mother is rather beyond me, but I do know that the war you started ended officially with the birth of the woman I call my wife.

“In the meantime my mother went to Jötunheim, looking for more power, mated with Laufey and bore me. At which point she somehow convinced Laufey to invade Asgard, which led to the Aesir-Jötun war. Kvasir killed Bergdís and, I’m guessing thanks to your meddling,” he nodded to the Norns, “I was adopted by Odin and raised as an Asgardian. I can imagine Gullveig was thrill about that detail. With Bergdís dead and myself oblivious, Gullveig must have still intended to continue with her plans somehow, and, if I’m getting the right idea, she had the ability to manipulate things more directly than you do. You can set out paths, but cannot make people walk them. Gullveig can, and you knew that. So why let her find out about Fenrir if you couldn’t guarantee he would succeed?”

Loki looked up at the three Norns, feeling a nasty smirk spreading across his lips.

“You made sure Gullveig knew her great grandson was set to kill her, so she would take steps to prevent it. Fenrir needed to be bound and chained so he would have been monstrous enough to kill Gullveig… and now he is. You need my son to commit murder for you.”

“Loki, you must think bigger,” said Verðandi.

“I must do nothing!” snapped Loki furiously, “You’ve destroyed my son’s life because you were too cowardly to deal with Gullveig yourself. And now you want me to help you? Why should I?”

“Because your sons will die if you do not go back,” said Skuld sharply.

Ice-cold dread filled Loki’s stomach, but he shook his head,

“You don’t know that. You said you can’t be certain of anything.”

“Even now Gullveig drives Fenrir towards Odin’s chambers. If Fenrir kills Odin the chaos that follows will destroy Asgard. Jörmungandr, whom your daughter sent to Asgard, will die trying to protect Fenrir, as Gullveig will abandon him once he’s done her work. If you do not go back, Asgard, and everyone on it, will burn.” Skuld had lost any sense of girlish amusement as she stared at Loki heavily.

Loki turned away, knowing that even if it was only a possibility, he would have to return to Asgard for his sons.

“Yes, they make it sound so obvious,” said Bergdís silkily, sidling to him once more and clasping his arm, “But if you go back, you won’t be able to save your wife.”

Loki’s head snapped around to look at her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have gone over this and over this hoping all the pieces add up to make sense as best I can, but I apologise if they don’t. Also, I wanted Loki to make a vicious quip about how the Norns like to keep things in the family, but it didn’t fit, so it became the title for the chapter.   
> In Norse Mythos the Dísir are some sort of spirits that were to do with fate, fertility and the dead (so far as I can tell anyway), while in the comics they were villainous creatures that were originally Valkyries that went cannibalistic (again, so far as I could figure out), so I took elements from both to explain what Bergdís and Gullveig are.  
> Also, I will try to update asap, but I want to try and have a rough draft of the final chapter before I post anymore because I may need to set things up for the sequel. So… hopefully none of you lovely readers will murder me for that cliffhanger… or any of the others I’m gonna throw at you very soon.  
> Uh… bye now!


	62. Loki's Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the end, it all comes down to Loki -and it's the last thing he ever wanted.

Trembling, Thundi chased the strange, dark boy as he hobbled down the wide corridors, keeping close to the wall. Elli mewled in his arms, but Thundi ignored her. The boy was growling and muttering to himself as he went but Thundi could only make out a few words,

“Papa… Fenrir… Hela… danger… Papa promised…”

In his head Thundi could hear his mother’s voice, yelling at him to stop, to go find her, to get away from the boy. Thundi didn’t know why he ignored it, the boy was mean and scary, yet he followed; he wanted to see what the boy would do.

Jörmungandr was heading for the main entrance, the doors were wide open as people ran inside. Thundi thought they should close the door to keep the bad men out. Jörmungandr did not seem to notice the people rushing around him as he walked through the doors and came to a halt at the top of the grand stairs. Thundi ducked behind a pillar to the side, peering around it to watch.

Jörmungandr was leaning forward, sniffing the air. His eyes were fixed on something right in front of him, but there was nothing to see to Thundi. Then Jörmungandr reached out a hand, seemed to rest it on something in the air, and he mumbled a word. Thundi’s eyes widened as the air seemed to ripple, and a shadow, a huge hulking shadow appeared and disappeared. Once, twice, three times it formed and then solidified, filling the steps.

There was a moment of absolute silence and stillness. Then Thundi dropped Elli as people screamed around him. A huge black wolf loomed over their heads. Saliva dripped from his fangs as he growled, his eyes, orange and bright, roamed around rabidly. Yet he was still, Jörmungandr’s hand resting on his nose.

There was a shriek of “No!” and a beautiful, golden woman appeared on the wolf’s back. “Get out of the way boy!” She dug her heels into the wolf’s flank and he snarled, throwing his head back and knocking Jörmungandr over. Then the wolf stepped forward, ignoring the screaming people around him. Thundi looked down, searching for Elli, but she was gone. He dropped to his knees, searching, but a gigantic paw came slamming down in front of him and he yelped, scrambling backwards and landing on his rump. He stared, horrified as the great beast made his way inside, having to stoop to get through the doors. His massive tail swung out and knocked ten men over, then it caught a statue of Bor, smashing it above Jörmungandr’s head. The dark boy threw his arms over his head as the pieces rained down on him.

“Shoot it!” roared a man and Thundi heard the sound of blasts. The wolf bellowed in pain, and the floor trembled as he thrashed.

“No!” Jörmungandr clawed his way to his feet and ran after the wolf. With no idea what else to do, Thundi followed once more, hoping Elli was safe wherever she had run off to.

**~*~**

It was like being dropped from a great height, Loki’s stomach flipped and his breathing caught in throat.

“What do you mean I won’t be able to save my wife? What’s happened, why would she need saving?” he demanded, turning to his mother.

Bergdís face was full of triumph as she held Loki’s arm.

 “Oh, didn’t they tell you?” she cooed, smirking at the Norns. Loki grabbed her arms and forced her to look at him.

“Tell me what’s happened!” he roared in her face. “Tell me!”

Bergdís eyes widened, then she waved a hand and a figure appeared opposite Hel, who was still bound in place. Loki took one look at the new figure and threw Bergdís aside, rushing towards the figure. He didn’t want to recognise her, he didn’t want to be before him, but he would always recognise his wife. He knew her as a wolf bitch suckling Fenrir, as a tiny white kitten clawing at Thor for interrupting their first attempt at love making, as a great humpback whale breaching the waters, just as he knew her now.

“Sigyn… Sigyn!” cried Loki, reaching for her, but his hand passed right through her. He turned back to Bergdís, trembling, “What’s going on? What’s happened?”

“This is what’s happening now,” said Bergdís softly. “And if you go back to Asgard, you won’t be able to save her.”

“Why not?” demanded Loki.

“You’ll be too late,” said Bergdís simply, walking over to him. “Will you really leave her like this?”

Loki looked at his wife. Sigyn was crouched on the ground, naked and filthy, arms wrapped around herself protectively. She was trembling and tears trickled down her cheeks. Her head had obviously been brutally shaved as cuts and nicks littered it, making her head look oddly misshapen. She had a split lip, and her neck was red under a metal collar that seemed to be chained to the ground. As she turned slightly on the spot, Loki saw there were deep cuts on her back and blood dripped slowly down her naked backside. His face burned with rage, hatred and humiliation at seeing his wife, his bright, beautiful, confident wife, quivering and sobbing quietly, as if all the fight had been beaten out of her.

Loki reached up to cup her face, but paused when he remembered she was an illusion.

“Why should I believe this is real?” he demanded.

“Ask your daughter,” purred Bergdís. Loki turned to Hel.

“Is this real?” he asked quietly, feeling sick as he looked between his suffering wife and his bound daughter. “Hela?”

Even with half her face obscured, Hel’s expression was easily read by the way her eyes, one green, one white, slid away from his. Loki swallowed and turned to the Norns. “You knew?”

Urðr sighed, “Of course we knew.”

“So, if I do what you want, my wife will suffer and die?” asked Loki, trying to control his trembling.

“We don’t know,” said Verðandi.

“You don’t know,” repeated Loki, a rushing, swooping sensation in his stomach making him feel ill.

“Sigyn’s fate is her own,” said Skuld, “Your sons are tied to you.”

“Why can I not save both?” demanded Loki.

“The only way to send you back is by undoing what was done, by restoring you to what you were. Skywalker though you are, you won’t have the power to go to Vanaheim, it has been sealed away by other forces. But if you don’t go back your father and sons will die.”

“But if you become a Dís, you could save her,” said Bergdís, pulling at his arm.

“And my sons?” asked Loki, feeling like he was talking in circles. Were they all just trying to delay him? Were they hoping he would take so long to make a decision that he would be absorbed into Yggdrasil and be gone forever? It did not seem beyond the realms of possibility.

Bergdís hesitated in answering and Loki, with his bound daughter on one side and his suffering wife on the other, with his sons’ lives and his own sanity, on the line, snapped. He grabbed Bergdís and backhanded her across the face, shaking her hard.

“Answer me! What will happen to them?” he bellowed.

“You can make them like us,” said Bergdís sweetly, as if he had not laid a hand on her, “Make them bigger and better, so they can help your grandmother, myself and you forge a new universe. We can be gods Loki, and set the Realms to right. Your family will be with you forever, Loki. You can even save your wife, make her a Dís too. You and Sigyn could be the real All-Father and All-Mother, with your sons as venerated and loved gods, and your daughter as the gentle carer of the dead.” Bergdís cupped his face, “If you go back, you’ll lose so much, so stay with me and become so much more, and be with your whole, true family forever.”

Loki stared into her eyes for a long moment and as he stared, he found himself feeling very, very tempted.    

**~*~**

“You fight well Frigga,” said Forseti, panting slightly. “Almost as good as a warrior.”

Frigga swung hard and he was barely able to block her blow.

“I would say the same of you,” said Frigga, refusing to let him rile her. Unfortunately, Forseti seemed intent on doing just that, his voice full of mockery.

“What you must have thought when Odin first brought Loki to Asgard. You probably though he was the result of one of Odin’s many mistresses. In truth, that was probably preferable to a savage animal that you had to civilise. At least if he had Odin’s blood in him he might be of worth.”

Frigga grit her teeth and ducked, turning on the spot and stabbing Forseti in the thigh. Forseti yowled like a stuck pig.

“You know nothing of a mother’s love,” she spat, pulling the sword out and side-stepping his next blow. His sword hit the ground but his elbow came up and struck her hard in the face. Frigga stumbled, her jaw aching.

“I know it is a woman’s greatest strength and weakness in one breath,” he sneered. “And in your case it is an evident weakness, or you would never have put that degenerate creature on the throne.”  

They clashed again, their swords scraping against each other. Frigga looked for some way to end this quickly.

“Your majesty! Your majesty!”

Frigga’s concentration slipped for a moment at the call but it was all Forseti needed. He pushed her to the side, forcing her to turn, then brought his blade down across her back. Searing pain flooded Frigga’s mind as she fell to her knees.

“No!”

There was a flurry of movement behind her, shouts, curses, then a squelching sound and a groan. Frigga looked up in time to see Sverrir pull his sword from Forseti’s stomach. Blood splattered on the ground and Forseti collapsed to onto his side, clutching his stomach. Sverrir turned to Frigga and knelt at her side, his face white and his hands trembling.

“My queen, let me help,” he said frantically, touching her back. Frigga winced and pushed him off.

“It’s nothing, a scratch. You boys came away with worse in training,” she said. It was true, despite the pain she knew the wound was mild. “You called me, what’s wrong?”

“What –oh!” Sverrir’s face paled, “It’s the Fenrir Wolf my queen. He’s somehow gotten in the palace and he’s heading for Odin. The einherjar are trying to stop him but none of our weapons are slowing him down.”

The bottom dropped out of Frigga’s stomach.

“Fenrir… no!” she leapt to her feet and ran towards the palace.

“My queen!” Sverrir called, chasing after her. Frigga ignored him, leaping over rubble and bodies alike. She had to stop this, had to save her husband and grandson before either could be harmed. Kvasir was the only one in the palace that knew the truth, everyone else would only see a monster and –no, she would not let this happen! She would not let her family come to more harm.

**~*~**

Helplessness was an experience that Loki had become annoyingly familiar with since becoming king. All the power in the universe and he could not do a damn thing with it more often than not.

He wanted to bring his sons home, he had to wait for the right time.

He wanted to marry Sigyn in public, his position as king somehow made it even more difficult than when he was the second prince.

He wanted to improve the lives of the people he considered more worthy, and had managed to alienate the larger population of Asgard.

And now… now he had to decide between his wife, his children, his life and the universe.

Ridiculous, he thought irritably, why did everything have to rely on him making a singular decision? It was the kind of power he had never wanted, the kind he was happy to leave to Odin, and eventually Thor, once he got his head out of his arse.

What Loki wanted, honestly, desperately, was to go back to a point in his life when he had been the playful, pranking prince, where he could do what he liked and get away with it… but he had allowed his jealousy of Thor take that pleasure away, becoming obsessed with being the better son, but never the more loved. It had been so long since he had allowed himself the fun of a mischievous game, and he missed it. He missed having time to himself, he missed being able to sneak away for days, even weeks, and do what he liked. He missed the long nights having Sigyn in his arms, he even missed the long days when Angrboda had gone hunting, leaving Loki with Jörmungandr and they had laughed and played, content to be together.

Yet missing all the world would not get him out of this situation, and he knew he was delaying the inevitable. Whatever else, he had to make a choice.

If he chose life, his sons would live but his wife would die. If chose his own death, they would all die. If he chose to ascend to become a Dís, he could save them all. Yet if he did save them, what about everyone else?

‘What do I owe Asgard?’ he wondered bitterly, ‘It has never really wanted me, not as a prince and not as a king. My sons suffered because Odin tried to hide my shameful past, Tyr can’t stand what I am, I don’t owe it anything.’

‘What about Sverrir? What about the thralls, they want me as their king, I saw them fighting for me.’

‘But I don’t want to be king, I never did, and now I really don’t want it… please, I don’t want it. I want my sons, my daughter, my wife, my brother… I want my family, not a throne.’

‘Liar, even to myself. I wanted recognition, esteem and power… I could have all of that as a God, I could set the universe to right.’

Loki brought his hands to his face, rubbing over his brow and dragging down over his cheeks. If he gave in to Bergdís, his family could be together and happy, and no one, not even the Norns, could hurt them again.

Yet if he did that it would be the end of everything, of the Nine Realms and everyone in it.

Loki thought of his sons, who he could save if he went back, of his friends, Sverrir, Dag, Mýrkjartan, who were fighting for him, of his brother, the planets and their inhabitants.

What kind of existence would he and the boys have as Dísir? He wouldn’t be able to teach them to read, to fight, to ride, to wield seiðr.

Was all of that worth the life of his wife? 

Turning his head to look at his biological mother, Loki watched her smirk slip away as she read his expression.

“No…” she whispered. Pulling away from her, Loki walked back to the illusion of Sigyn. She had stopped crying and was hugging her knees to her chest, staring at something above her. Loki forced himself to look at her, taking in the damage that had been done to her, and then he looked past it, at her amber eyes and her straight nose that had always been slightly too long, her full lips that they both loved to bite in moments of pleasure. His eyes began to burn and he reached up as if to stroke her cheek with the back of his finger, but he held back just shy of touching her, not wanting to disturb the illusion.

He thought about the last time they had spoken, and bitterly regretted that he had left so much unsaid, they had parted ways with so much doubt hanging over them. He remembered how he had held her as she tried not to cry over her perceived failures, and he had whispered,

“Go home.”

If he had asked her to stay with him, she would not be like this, and he would not be making this choice. It made the ache in his chest turn into a full on knife wound, like he had cut himself open to remove his heart.   

Tears escaped Loki’s eyelashes and rolled down his cheeks. He leaned close, wanting to press a kiss to her, and his chest tightened as he thought he caught a whiff of her scent.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, “Please, forgive me.”

Sigyn blinked and seemed lift her eyes to him for a moment. Despair and misery had darkened the amber irises and Loki pressed his lips together to hold back a sob. He turned away from her and faced the Norns.

“Send me back.”

“No!” Bergdís screeched, and Loki felt a rush of heat as she launched a fiery ball of seiðr at him. Loki threw up his hand, forming a shield of energy. Bergdís’ attack rebounded off it and launched right back at her. His mother screamed and threw her hands over her face as the ball hit her and she was consumed by the flames. Loki did not even deign to watch as her screams faded into nothing and nothing was all that was left of her. He kept his eyes on the Norns, who wore matching expressions of fascination.

“You will ensure Fenrir does what he must?” asked Skuld.

“On one condition,” said Loki, using all his strength to keep his voice steady. Hel’s eyes were fixed on his face. The Norns shared a look and then nodded.

“Name it,” said Skuld.

**~*~**

Frigga could hear Fenrir’s roars before she even entered the palace. She pushed herself to run faster, to get to her grandson before anyone harmed him further. She could hear people calling to her, but she ignored them, she ignored everything but the wolf she was chasing. If the people of Asgard killed Fenrir, however unknowingly, Loki would not forgive it and would undoubtedly wreak terrible vengeance on all who had taken part. Moreover, Frigga could not bear the thought of her grandson being harmed anymore by Aesir, and her own, ignorance.

It was easy to know which way Fenrir had gone by the path of destruction through the palace and Frigga’s heart gave a lurch as she realised that Fenrir was almost at Odin’s bedside.

“Stop! Stop!”

Kvasir’s desperate voice was audible among the noise as he cried to the einherjar, trying to stop them from shooting at Fenrir. Then there was a terrible, rasping roar and thunderous booms filled the air. Frigga turned down the corridor and came to a horrified halt.

The wolf was grappling viciously with a massive serpent, their jaws snapping at each other as the serpent tried to wrap his coils around the wolf and halt it. Upon the wolf’s back a golden woman was screeching and throwing bolts of seiðr at the serpent. There was only one person she could be; Heith. Frigga’s fingers sparked with seiðr as she strode forward, ready to attack, when something blue caught her eye and she looked around.

A small boy was pressed against the wall, caught among the chaos of the beasts fighting, his face white with terror as he tried to make himself as small as possible. Frigga opened her mouth to call someone to save him but Jörmungandr’s tail swung in an arch and went hurtling towards him. Without thinking, Frigga rushed forward and threw herself over the boy, who screamed.

It felt like the blow had shattered every bone in her body as Jörmungandr’s tail crashed on top of her. The air was knocked out of her and she collapsed on top of the screaming boy. The chilling warmth of blood pooling across her back made her twitch and she managed to turn her head in time to see Heith force Jörmungandr off with a blast of seiðr, sending him flying into many einherjar and crushing them under his massive weight. Frigga tried to rise, but could not make her body obey her head as Heith cackled gleefully and drove Fenrir through the final doors and into Odin’s chamber. Frigga’s eyes widened and she choked, a hand flying out, reaching for her grandson, her husband, as if she might pull them apart as Fenrir’s great paws rested on the bed, and his head lifted up.

“Now! Now! Do it now!” shrieked Heith gleefully.

“No…” breathed Frigga as blackness consumed her vision. The last thing she saw was Fenrir opening his jaws and lowering his head to bite. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh... comments are love. ;-)


	63. The End of the Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Civil War comes to a close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My own chapter title is filling me with trepidation.

For Sverrir, time seemed to slow down as Fenrir’s jaws swung down towards the prone Odin, still lying in his bed. On the monster’s back, the Völva’s face was alight with glee, while everyone else was transfixed with horror, unable to move. No, it couldn’t –Odin couldn’t-

Fenrir’s jaws encircled Odin head to toe and began to close.

There was a flash, a roar of rage, and Gullveig vanished from Fenrir’s back, only to reappear where Odin had lain a second before. She barely had the time to scream in outrage before Fenrir’s jaws snapped shut and the wolf threw his head back and swallowed hard.

Another flash of light and Odin reappeared on the floor by the bed, flopping like a ragdoll. Then a third flash of light and Loki appeared on Fenrir’s back.

“Loki!” cried Sverrir in relief, but Loki ignored him as he reached for something around his neck and pulled it away. With quick hands he grabbed the collar around Fenrir’s neck and, after a moment, he was peeling the collar from Fenrir’s neck, revealing raw, hairless flesh, that oozed pus and blood into the matted fur around it. Loki slid down from Fenrir’s back, one hand stroking the wolf’s fur as he went. The wolf was still, and seemed confused, his skinny frame now bulging at the belly, and he swayed where he stood. Faint growls began to build inside him once more as Loki, with a face of stony rage stepped over Odin and knelt down so he was straddling the prone man. He stared down at his father and Sverrir found himself edging forward anxiously as everyone watched, breathless and scared. Loki lifted his chin and span the collar between his palms. It shrank down from the wolf’s size to the size of a man’s neck. Sverrir’s eyes widened in disbelief. No, he wouldn’t.

Loki took a deep breath and all but slammed the collar around Odin’s neck, locking it into place. There was a moment of absolute silence. Then Odin let out a scream of agony and the wolf howled and thrashed violently, smashing the golden bed. There was a hissing roar and the serpent shot through the doors, knocking Sverrir to the ground, and wrapped the wolf tight in its coils. Odin’s scream continued to echo through the room over the roaring beasts and yet Loki rose to his feet and walked away without a backwards look.

“Loki!” cried Sverrir, rushing forward. He wanted to ask, he wanted to protest, but his relief and delight at seeing Loki back, overwhelmed everything else and he threw his arms around him, hugging him tight. “You’re alive! You’re alive!”

Loki grabbed Sverrir’s arms and pushed him firmly away, his face still coldly furious.

“Where is Tyr?” he asked in a low voice that Sverrir still heard over the din of the two beasts and Odin. Sverrir opened his mouth, but his voice froze at the look in Loki’s face. He had seen him angry, but this was beyond anger. It was terrifying and Sverrir could only point towards the city. Loki glanced that way, then said,

“Sverrir, stay here with my father and sons.”

“Your-?”

Loki was gone before Sverrir could begin the next word. He strode through the frozen crowd, clad only in his basic armour and no weapons to hand.

“Hear me now!” he barked, “If anyone attempts to touch Odin, or Jörmungandr or Fenrir, they shall be punished with torture. No one is to interfere with my family!”

His voice was deep and dark, and even the older einherjar seemed to shrink from him, for he had never looked or sounded so like Odin in one of his moments of perfect rage. Sverrir watched him go, then looked back at the animals and Odin and then glanced at Kvasir, who was watching the trio in comprehending horror. Anger flooded Sverrir’s chest and he stormed over to his father.

“You knew about this?” he demanded. Kvasir levelled him with an exhausted gaze.

“Queen Frigga only told me after Loki went into stasis. We must obey the king and not interfere.”

Sverrir swallowed hard and looked around once more. The wolf seemed to be shrinking, tiring and the serpent was relaxing his coils. Yet Odin continued to scream, and Sverrir thought he might be sick. He swallowed hard and turned back to Kvasir,

“Sons, eh?” he asked shortly, “I bet there’s quite a story there.”

“Wait until you hear of his daughter,” said Kvasir darkly.

“Help! Help!” cried a small voice over the din, cutting off any reply Sverrir might have had. Both men turned. Frigga was splayed on the ground, unmoving, her body pinning a small boy underneath her. “The queen, help!” wailed the boy.

“Frigga!” cried Kvasir as he and Sverrir ran to their fallen queen, while the einherjar around them shifted from foot to foot, weapons drawn. Blood had soaked through Frigga’s clothing, but when Kvasir checked her pulse, he let out a sigh of relief. “She needs Eir. Take it easy Thundi –you!” Kvasir pointed at a guard, “Come and pull him out, and someone get a healer. Move before the queen dies!” he snapped when they didn’t move fast enough.

“But what about the king?” asked one, flinching as Odin gave a particularly loud shriek.

“Loki is the king, and he has ordered that Odin be left alone,” said Kvasir sharply.

“But the monsters-”

“Obey your king!” Sverrir barked, trying to ease Frigga off Thundi as one guard finally pulled the sobbing boy free. “Take the boy to the healing chambers-”

“Look!” cried another guard, pointing at the wolf and serpent. Sverrir turned and his mouth fell open in shock.    

**~*~**

“Will he succeed?” asked Verðandi as she watched Loki stride through the palace of Asgard.

“Maybe. Or he might die,” said Skuld lightly. “Then again, if he had a little help… he would probably survive and we and sister Death-Queen might all be friends again.”

They looked at Hel, who was still bound by their magic. She stared at them unflinchingly.

“It does not do for us to be divided,” said Verðandi, “We understand you cannot help but think small, it is why you exist as you do, why you were born of Loki and Angrboda, so you would tend to the souls of the dead, yet you know too that we cannot think like that. Our purpose is to think big.”

Hel nodded, her jaw working behind the gag.

“Let us all be friends again,” said Skuld, waving her hand and freeing Hel. The Queen stood regally and without a hint of discomfort, clasping her hands in front of her.

“My father’s life for our friendship, your upholding of your agreement with my father about my brothers for my cooperation,” she said coolly. “And your word that you will leave my family, including Sigyn and Thor alone.”

“Of course,” said Urðr, “And your word that you will not interfere so directly with the Nine Realms again.”

Hel clenched her fists and nodded.

“He shall need some help then,” said Verðandi, turning to Skuld, who smiled sweetly and clapped her hands twice.

“How strange it is to be so small,” she said wonderingly, “I shall miss it when we go back to our usual way of being.”

The other women nodded, and Skuld reached out her hand and grasped something that was not there, turning her wrist and letting go.

**~*~**

In New Mexico, Mjölnir began to tremble.  

**~*~**

Blood pounded in Loki’s ears as he strode through the quickly stilling crowds of people, who all stared at him with wide eyes. Loki was in absolutely no mood to play games, so he ignored them. He wanted Tyr dead and he was not going to waste a second to do it.

He strode out into the city to find it in chaos, and if possible, his rage increased another five fold. He watched as einherjar battled with warrior, and bodies fell to the ground. Loki took in a slow, deep breath and with what little seiðr he had left, he amplified his voice so it echoed across the city.

“ENOUGH!”

The roar cut through everything else, and everyone paused to look around. Loki glowered around him, his hands clenched tight into trembling fists. He stepped forward and scanned the crowds looking for one face.

“Is this what Asgard is when the veneer is stripped away?” he demanded, almost spitting with rage. “Is this all you stand for? Battle and bloodshed over petty jealousies, because you are no longer the spoiled children of the All-Father and must content yourself with being equal to your siblings around you?”

“Jötun scum!” barked a warrior, lunging at him with his sword raised. Loki twisted to the side, grabbed the man’s wrist, turned his hand and forced the man to his knees with a sharp kick. The sword clattered to the ground and Loki slammed his hand into the back of the man’s head, forcing his face to crunch against the ground. Blood splattered and the man went still.

Loki picked up the sword and turned away from the man, continuing forwards.

“Where is Tyr?” he called, “Come out Tyr and face me!”

There was a moment of tense silence, then the people parted and Tyr stepped forward. Blood stained his armour and he was grinning like a mad man. Loki forced his temper down and spoke carefully.

“Tyr, you have committed treason.”

“I do not recognise your claim, therefore you are no king of mine, so I have committed no treason,” said Tyr loudly, his sword cutting through the air. “I don’t recognise Jötun blood.”

“Isn’t that convenient for you?” said Loki, fists clenched tight. “Make an absurd claim about me to justify your actions, something you know is every Aesir’s worst nightmare. You’ve preyed on people’s fears long enough Tyr.”

“Oh these are no false claims, Jötun,” said Tyr, who was clearly enjoying himself. “Have you never wondered why you do not share the colouring of Odin’s family? Why you never grew like Thor? Did you never wonder why deception and lies came so easily to you when such behaviour is abhorrent in true Asgardians?”

Any other day, these words might have upset him, even knowing what he was, but Loki did not give a damn about of that anymore.

“I have not come for words Tyr, I have come to fight.” He lifted the sword, pointing it at tyr, “I challenge you to single-combat, the victor of which shall be king, the loser shall forfeit all rights.”

Tyr blinked, he seemed surprised at this. Loki stepped forward, raising his voice,

“Come on Tyr! Let’s end this once and for all and spare Asgard any further bloodshed.”

There was another moment when Tyr stared at him. Then he started to smirk.

“So be it. I shall put you down like the animal you are, and restore Asgard to its former glory.”

“Then what are you waiting for?” said Loki. A large crowd of warriors began to gather around as, they began to circle each other, watching with baited breath.

Tyr lunged at him and Loki side-stepped his attack, swinging down the butt of his sword towards the back of Tyr’s head, but Tyr threw himself to the side, anticipating the blow. They faced off again and Tyr lifted his sword, spinning it in his hand to reset the balance. Loki flexed his fingers on the hilt of his sword and regretted not summoning his own sword, but he didn’t trust that his seiðr would obey him, so he would have to make do with the sword he had taken from a fool. He glanced down at the sword and squeezed the hilt tight, always he seemed to have a disadvantage when dealing with Asgardian warriors, and he was sick of it. He was sick of Asgard’s machismo and sick of this man in front of him.

Tyr’s eyes widened in alarm as Loki looked up at him and glared at him with pure vicious hate. Loki lifted the sword, the point aimed at Tyr’s heart.

“You will die this day,” he whispered, “You will die, and with you shall go the corpulent, putrid corpse that is Asgard’s old ways. And I shall laugh as the seiðr weavers sit in court and rule the warriors, knowing you will be watching from Niflheim, unable to stand in my way.”

Tyr’s face flushed red and he let out a bellow, charging at Loki, his sword raised. Loki barely managed to lift his sword and block the blow in time. Still Tyr’s weight and strength nearly made his legs buckle.  

“I will kill you!” roared Tyr, “I will kill you and throw your body off the edge of the world! I will scorch you from this world and save its honour from your savagery.”

“You just try!” Loki snarled, throwing Tyr off him and swinging the sword at Tyr’s neck.

**~*~**

It had been two days since the pieces of Bifrost had tumbled from the heavens, and Thor had been in a daze, unable to think straight. His friends were in a similar state of shock; after they had been sent back to their home that SHIELD had provided them in New York, Volstagg had gone out and not come back for hours, until he had eaten a restaurant’s entire larder, Hogun had disappeared into his room and remained there meditating. Fandral had gone out too, but undoubtedly he was searching for more fleshly distractions. Sif had remained in the apartment, sitting in the main room staring out the window at the vast view they had of New York City. Thor had wandered through the apartment, moving from bed, to seat, to standing at the table, leaning on the hard surface. His head was consume with terrible thoughts.

Was it possible that they were truly trapped on Midgard for the rest of their lives? Could it be he would never see Asgard, or his family, again? Would he never smell the air without the acrid taste of pollution hitting the back of his throat again? Was Asgard even still standing? Were they the last Aesir in the Nine Realms?

Thor wandered to the sofa and dropped into it, glancing at Sif who was seated in the matching chair, turned towards the window, eyes glazed. Thor wondered if she was thinking about the things she was now completely cut off from, or if she was brooding on her choices to follow him.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

Sif looked at him, pushing her hair away from her neck, “What?”

“If I had not been so hot-headed in Jötunheim, if we had never gone to Jötunheim, we would all be home, and now we may never see it again.”

Sif stared at him for a long time then said in a low voice, “May I speak frankly?”

Thor nodded, his stomach knotting at her tone.

“I have wondered at times how you and Loki could be related when you are so quick to move on, and he so grudging and likes to pick at his wounded pride so it would never heal, yet now I see exactly that you are no better than he is.”

“What?”

“What have you done but sulk over the past since we arrived? Even when you seem to take a step forward, such as when you accepted the brotherhood of SHIELD, you still brood over the actions that led you here, and never let them go.”

“What do you expect me to do?” demanded Thor, “Father banished me for my actions, they are the reason I am here.”

“No, you are the reason you are here, why we are all here, you Thor, not the actions themselves!” said Sif loudly. “Once you would have set them aside and moved on, but now you just brood on them day and night.”

“And perhaps if I considered my actions before I took them rather than after we would not be here in the first place!” snapped Thor.

“Well what good does it do us now?” demanded Sif, rising to her feet and walking towards the open plan kitchen. “What good does your mood do us now when we are thwarted at every turn to prove ourselves in battle by SHIELD and now the _Bifrost_ -” She pointed upwards with a sharp thrust of her hand, “Rains down from the sky as our home is undoubtedly being attacked by an enemy and we must sit like helpless children, unable to stand and die for our realm, ensuring our names will be remembered forever in song! What good does your sulking do us now Thor?”

“What would you have me do?” shouted Thor, rising to his feet. “We have no seiðr, I have no Mjölnir, without the Bifrost we are stranded-”

“Loki would have gotten us home months ago!” roared Sif.

There was a ringing silence as they stared at each other. Thor didn’t know if he was more surprised or she was at her words. Thor clenched his fists, feeling his arms shake with anger,

“Where does this come from? This new found faith in my brother, after so many times you have spoken against him-”

“Just because I do not trust him does not mean I do not respect him!” she snapped, resting her fist on the breakfast bar.

“You have deceived the Nine Realms into thinking otherwise,” said Thor sharply.

“I followed your lead in that, Thor,” she said coolly, “It is true seiðr is not as glorious a skill as combat, but it has served us well before, and would have brought us home had Loki been with us. But then if he wanted you home, why did he not make it so… even if he could not at the beginning, why not later, why has he forsaken us –forsaken you?”

“Do you think I do not wonder at it? Do you think I do not ask myself why my brother has not sent me even a letter since my name-day? Has he even turned his gaze upon me since then? But now is not the time for such things, if the Bifrost is destroyed then Loki is undoubtedly in grave danger, or dead… and I cannot bear to think of either possibility.”

“He is not dead,” said Sif with absolute certainty. “He’s too sneaky to die.”

“You speak of respecting him and deride him in the next breath!” snapped Thor.

“As do you!” snarled Sif, “As you have done for years! If we had listened to him from the start we would never have gone to Jötunheim and we would not be here.”

“You chose this path! I did not force you,” said Thor.

“As did you, you chose this path for yourself rather than heed the wisdom of your brother and friends, who all told you it was dangerous, forbidden and ill-advised. We followed you to make sure you did not die for something so foolish!”

“Do you think I do not know this?” Thor barked, fists clenched so tight his arms were trembling. “Why do you think I am plagued with guilt-”

“Guilt serves none of us! Action will serve us, and what have you done Thor? What have you done for us?”

Silence flooded the room as they stared at each other, then Thor’s phone rang and he reflexively withdrew it from his pocket.

“Yes?” he answered, trying to keep his voice steady.

“Thor, it’s Steve. Look, something’s happening in New Mexico, your hammer’s giving off energy readings and-”

“Mjölnir?” croaked Thor. Sif straightened up at once.  

“Yeah, I think you’d better come in.”

**~*~**

Loki felt dizzy with exhaustion, but he refused to slow down. His only true strength against Tyr was speed, because Tyr was all strength, which was why he had been such a good teacher for Thor. Every time Tyr landed a blow, Loki struggled not to buckle underneath it. His best bet was to try and stay above Tyr’s blows, but doing so made it very easy to strike him if he wasn’t careful.

He could hear people shouting, but he had no idea if they were for him or for Tyr. Maybe he should have stayed with his sons, taken them and fled.

Tyr’s sword slashed and Loki cried out, grabbing his shoulder as blood soaked his shirt. He staggered back, panting as he watched Tyr. Tyr laughed, spreading his arms to the crowd.

“See how the runt flinched from a scratch,” he laughed, “Is this who you want as a king?”

Some people laughed, loud and vicious, and the sound rattled inside Loki’s head, and mixed in was Sigyn’s sobs, Jörmungandr’s snarls and Fenrir’s howls deafening him and making him tremble violently. He looked behind him at the palace, where his sons were struggling for freedom, and his vision turned read.

“You think you know pain?” he hissed, turning back to Tyr, then roaring, “You think you know pain Tyr?”

The laughter died away and Loki hefted his sword, advancing on Tyr. “You think you understand what it is to suffer, to lose everything that matters? You know nothing!” He threw himself at the older warrior, forgetting all skill and plans, bashing at Tyr relentlessly, unaware of his own screaming.

**~*~**

“What’s happening?” demanded Thor, all but shoving agents aside.

“Your hammer is giving off a huge amount of energy,” said Stark pointing at the screen. Thor’s stomach dropped as he saw Mjölnir trembling on the rock she had rested on for a year.

“We’ve got Dr. Foster at the site,” said Agent Hill and another screen changed to show Jane’s face.

“Dr. Foster, what have you got?” asked Fury.

“Mjölnir’s giving off alpha particles at a huge rate, and the electromagnetism is making it almost impossible to get good readings –it’s interfering with all my equipment –it’s even screwing with the weather!” Jane gestured upwards and another screen showed the clouds gathering above New Mexico. “Thor, what’s happening?”

“Something has made Mjölnir stir,” said Thor, hands clenched at his side, “She’s waking up.”

“But why?”

“I don’t know,” admitted Thor, “Since my father took her from me I don’t understand her the way I did.”

“But-” Jane was cut off by a loud crack and the video feed was lost.

“Jesus!” yelped Stark, “The energy readings broke the chart!”

“Get me eyes on that hammer now!” barked Fury, “Get Foster back.”

“Sir, satellites in the area have picked up a small missile rising through the atmosphere,” said Hill.

“Wh-no!” Thor bellowed, grabbing Hill’s arm. “What do you mean?”

“I need eyes people!” Fury demanded.

“What, one isn’t enough? Greedy, greedy,” said Stark as his hands flew over the screen.

“Got it,” said Hill, bringing up an image of earth from above, the view narrowed and there was no mistaking what they were seeing. Thor staggered back as he watched Mjölnir soar up into space, and a small portal opened, swallowed Mjölnir… and vanished.

It was, Thor realised, the final abandonment.

They were never going home.

**~*~**

As a student of seiðr, Sverrir had seen and learned of many amazing things, but he had never seen anything so amazing, so grotesque or so heart-wrenching as the scene before him. As Odin continued to scream, thrashing on the floor, the wolf buckled under the weight of the serpent, thrashing on the floor, jaws snapping, paws scratching, while the serpent dropped its head to the floor as if exhausted.

Yet both beasts were shifting, shrinking, wisps of golden and black seiðr curling around their bodies, and although went Odin went on screaming, the growls and hissing died away, to something much more Aesir sounding.

The wolf’s snout retracted, the four digit paws extended and grew a fifth, the black fur retreated back into pale smooth skin. The serpent shrank and shrank, arms growing out of its sides, legs emerging further down.

Sverrir brought his hands to his face, shaking as the beasts disappeared, leaving behind two small forms, a boy of about four or five, and a new-born babe, still bearing the remnants of the umbilical cord. The babe lay on the boys bare stomach and began wailing, small arms flailing.

“Norns protect us,” muttered a guard, and only then did Sverrir realise Odin had stopped screaming.

“The princes are free!” cried Kvasir, “Their father the king has saved them from the terrible curse.”

Sverrir blinked, glancing at his father, then jumped when the shadows seemed to ripple and coalesce into a woman. Someone shrieked in alarm as Queen Hel strode through the room to the boys. Sverrir ran forwards in a blind panic.

“No! Leave them alone!”

He put himself between the death-queen and the boys, arms spread, forcing her to stop short. “They’re just boys, let them be,” he cried.  

Queen Hel regarded him for a moment, and Sverrir tried not to tremble at her half dead face. Then, to his shock, she smiled.

“Sverrir Kvasison… I knew there was a reason my father liked you. Now step aside, I want to see my brother.”

“Your…”

The boy behind him let out a sharp gasp, and Sverrir turned, leaping to catch the babe before it hit the ground as the boy sat up.

“Papa!” cried the boy, shivering violently. He was a strange colour, almost silvery, with thick black hair and green eyes. Hel crouched before him, taking his hand,

“Jörmungandr, papa needs you, you must go to him.”

The boy blinked up at her, “Hela, sister!”

“Yes, I’m your sister, now get to your feet and run, run to papa and tell him you love him.”

The boy scrambled to his feet, just as there was a dull boom, and the crack of thunder from outside. Hel snatched the babe from Sverrir’s arms, crying, “Go Jörmungandr, run!”

Jörmungandr bolted from the room, with Queen Hel following at a slower pace.

“But… who are you?” asked Sverrir, even though he was finally beginning to understand. She paused and turned back to him, smiling.

“I am Hel Lokadöttir, second child of the king of Asgard, and for the first time in a thousand years, my brothers and I will be reunited with our father.”

Sverrir’s hands fell to his sides, and he could sense the shock rippling over the einherjar.

A thousand years? But they would barely have been more than children back then… oh.

**~*~**

Despite everything, despite his rage, his bitterness, his hate, all it had taken was one sudden blow of Tyr’s fist into Loki’s stomach to knock him to the ground. Tyr’s fists were as hard as Mjölnir, and Loki was exhausted, but it did not change the fact that it was Loki who struggle for breath, unable to sit up as Tyr, bleeding, bruised and unsmiling, loomed over him.

The former Lendr maðr seemed to have had enough, because he just held his sword in both hands over Loki’s heart.

“You see, no Jötun could ever defeat the Aesir,” he growled, lifting his sword. Loki started to sit up when there was there was a loud _schh_ noise above their heads, a flash of light and something came hurtling towards them as if dropped from the heavens.

“What-?” Tyr barked, looking up. Loki reacted at once, kicking out and catching Tyr in the stomach. Tyr stumbled backwards just as the thing plummeted into the circle of people. Loki squinted up at it, and threw his hand out before he had really registered what he was seeing. Mjölnir collided with his hand and a charge of power blinded him as it surged through his body.

Oh! No wonder Thor liked this weapon so much!

When his vision cleared, Loki found himself standing once more, Mjölnir crackling in his hand, and silver-grey armour covering his arms and legs.

“What trickery is this?” roared Tyr.

“No tricks –I’m as surprised as you. However,” Loki grinned, the raw power of Mjölnir rushing through him, “I’m not complaining!”

He swung at Tyr, caught him in the chest and knocked him down. Tyr went for his sword, but Loki laughed and slammed Mjölnir down on Tyr’s hand, crushing it. Tyr screamed and Loki kicked him onto his back, lifting Mjölnir as he did.

“Odin placed a gaes that only the worthy may wield Mjölnir. I want that to be your last thought Tyr.” Loki grinned as Tyr cowered before him, cradling his destroyed hand to his chest, and lifted Mjölnir above his head.

“Papa? Papa!”

Time stood still as a voice he had not heard for so long called to him. He froze, Mjölnir held above his head, glaring down at Tyr.

“Papa! Papa!”

_Just swing it! Just kill him and be done with it! He deserves it._

“Papa?” The voice, Jörmungandr’s voice, was closer now, confused, even frightened.

Loki glowered down at Tyr for another moment, chest heaving, then forced himself to drop his arm. He had killed once before in front of his son. He wouldn’t do it again.

“Tyr, you have shamed yourself, and committed treason against your king, and incited other to do the same. You are hereby under arrest, and all your followers shall be likewise, to stand trial for your crimes.” He gave a twitch of his fingers, summoning the seiðr he had gained from Mjölnir, and chains wrapped around Tyr’s wrists, then began to appear on every man who had sworn loyalty to him.

“Hear me now,” Loki called, still panting hard, “Anyone who has fought against me will be marked and must surrender themselves by tomorrow. If you do this, I will show mercy. If not, I will see your punishment increased tenfold. This rebellion is over and there will be an accounting of it!”

Those in chains shrank from him, while others cheered, hefted their weapons high and cried his name. Loki ignored it all as he walked, no staggered, towards the palace, where three people stole his attention. Silence quickly fell when people realised Death-Queen Hel was standing among them, but Loki’s eyes were fixed on Jörmungandr. He was smaller than Loki recalled, naked as the day he was born, his silvery blue skin catching the light as his pale green eyes stared at Loki in wonder. Trembling, Loki climbed the stairs to stand before his children, kneeling down and resting Mjölnir at his feet as he came to eye level with his first born, hardly daring to breathe.

Jörmungandr stared at him for a long time, then reached out a tentative hand, touching Loki’s cheek.

“You’re hurt,” he said quietly. Loki barely managed a watery smile.

“I don’t care, not if you’re really here Jörmungandr, not if you forgive me.”

Jörmungandr furrowed his brow and he glanced up at Hel, who inclined her head regally, smiling softly. Jörmungandr’s throat convulsed and he looked at Loki again, then his thin arms reached out, cautiously wrapping around Loki’s neck, and he hugged Loki, resting his head on Loki’s shoulder. Loki’s mouth fell open slightly as his voice fled and he could feel sobs building in his chest.

“Papa,” Jörmungandr whispered, “I missed you.”

Loki broke down, hiding his face in Jörmungandr’s thick hair, clinging to his boy as he sobbed in joy, grief and relief. He stood up, lifting Jörmungandr into his arms, the boy wrapping his skinny legs around his middle.

“My boy, my boy…” he gasped, squeezing him tight. Then he looked up at Hel and extended an arm to her, “My daughter, my son.”

Hel stepped into his arms, pressing Fenrir to his chest, resting her head on Loki’s shoulder, like her brother. Loki held his children tight, his fingers burying in Hel’s thick hair, pressing his lips to her brow, then Jörmungandr’s.

“My children, my brilliant, beautiful children,” Loki gasped, hardly able to believe they were all with him after so long. Hel pulled away a little and held out Fenrir to Loki. The baby gurgled and grizzled as Loki took him in the crook of one arm, his other tucked under Jörmungandr’s bum to hold him up. “Jörmungandr, have you met your little brother, Fenrir?”

Jörmungandr lifted his head and blinked down at the baby, who kicked his little feet, lips puckering as he turned his face into Loki’s chest, searching for a breast to suckle at. Jörmungandr’s face furrowed thoughtfully, then he looked up at Hel.

“He’s not as noisy as you!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never thought I’d make it to this point. Loki finally has his boys back. Only a couple more chapters until this is finished, and then I’ll be starting the sequel –which may be written as a series of one-shots if that strikes me as working better, so keep an eye out, I’ll let you all know when I’ve figure it out.


	64. Retreating From Victory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the battle Loki needs to hide away and grieve, and Thor needs to talk to someone who understands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yes, I know I’m seriously late, but as you read this I am working on the final chapter of this story, and I hope to post the final chapters over the next 2-3 weeks, so hopefully that’ll be worth the wait.   
> Enjoy!

All Loki wanted to do was lock himself away and be with his daughter and sons. He wanted to grieve the loss of his wife, to ignore the world around him. It was only when Sverrir stepped in front of him and called his name loudly that he realised the other man had been trying to get his attention for several minutes on the palace steps.

“My king, what –where are you –I…” Sverrir tailed off, clearly at a loss for words as he stared at them, mouth working soundlessly.

“I am taking my children to my chambers,” said Loki curtly, tightening his hold on the boys.

“I… yes, I understand, but maybe Eir should examine them first,” said Sverrir softly, “It –that way you know everything’s is well. And, and your mother, she is there too, she was injured by the… by the commotion.”

Loki’s first instinct was to ignore the suggestion outright. His only thought was that he wouldn’t let anyone touch his sons, not even Eir. After all, had she not been there when they had first come to Idavoll, had stood by when Odin sent Jörmungandr away, when Loki had screamed to be given Fenrir back, had shushed him when he had tried to explain that the wolf form was a lie. No, Eir would not get near his sons.

“No, they’re whole and hale, I saw to it,” he said carefully, shaking his head. He shifted Fenrir one-handed so his tiny head rested in the crook of his neck, and turned his face to brush against Jörmungandr’s thick matted hair. “They don’t need her.”

“Well… still, perhaps you should, I mean, you yourself should be checked over-” said Sverrir sounding very awkward, but Loki cut across him.

“No. I’m fine too, we’re all fine.”

“Besides, I doubt there’s much anyone could do for my visage,” drawled Hel turning her decaying wrist lazily in the air. Sverrir went a funny shade of grey and nodded, looking like he was trying to appear casual instead of terrified.

“I wouldn’t want them to anyway,” said Loki firmly. “Now get out of the way Sverrir.”

“I… my king, please,” said Sverrir, voice strangled now, “I know you must be tired, and you want to be with your children… but we need you here, to guide us as we clear up. There are people who risked their lives to defend your claim, they deserve to be acknowledged.”

Loki’s cheeks flood with heat as his temper spiked. Was Sverrir really telling Loki he had to put his sons aside and act like a king now? Sverrir’s eyes widened and he brought a hand to his mouth, obviously wanting to gnaw at the thumbnail. He caught himself and put the hand behind his back.

“My king… Loki, please. I wish, I wish I could do this work for you, allow you some time with your sons, but I can’t, no one can. You’re the king, and you just battled to remain so. You, you need to show you want to be here.”

 _But I don’t_ , Loki wanted to yell at the top of his voice, feeling his temple vein twitch. Hel rested her hand on his back, saying quietly,

“Papa, I’ll take them to your chambers… look at them, they’re tired, and you should do as Sverrir suggests, then you’ll have the time to really be with Jörmungandr and Fenrir.”

“What about you? Is the air not hurting you?” asked Loki softly. Hel inclined her head,

“Slightly, but I can stay for an hour or two, until you come back.”

An hour or two felt like an eternity to Loki, who growled possessively, making Jörmungandr whimper.

“No. I will not be doing anything except taking my sons to my chambers.” He pushed past Sverrir and resumed his path. The entire realm could rebel all over again for all Loki cared. He needed to get away and sequester himself with his children, he needed to block out the Nine Realms until things were right again.

Hel followed like a shadow, smiling amicably at the people who gaped at her in terror, her hand hooked into Loki’s elbow, seemingly being escorted when in reality she was keeping him steady as he walked. The boys were getting heavy in his exhausted arms, and Mjölnir was a great weight hanging from his belt. It seemed an age before they were inside Loki’s chambers and through them into his bedroom. He walked to the bed and sank onto it, trembling slightly as he settled Jörmungandr in his lap and rested Fenrir across Jörmungandr’s knees. Jörmungandr’s arms curved around the slumbering babe protectively as he rested his head on Loki’s chest. Loki closed his eyes, feeling them burn with tears. When he opened them again, he saw Hel was watching them with a faint smile, her good eye shining.

“Hela?”

“I’m fine… it’s just, even though I’m meant to be beyond it, my heart feels like its swelling with joy, because I have longed to see those boys in your arms, where they belong,” she said quietly. Jörmungandr lifted his head and blinked at her.

“You’re my sister,” he said abruptly, “You’re Hela.”

Hel nodded, stepping closer, “Yes, I am your sister.”

“But… why are you so big now?”

“You’ve been gone a long time Jörmungandr,” said Loki softly, “You were trapped by a curse, and you’ve spent a very long time in your serpent form, Hel is all grown up now.”

“You’re different too,” said Jörmungandr, reaching up and touching Loki’s cheek softly again.

“As I said, it’s been a very long time,” said Loki quietly, turning into his son’s touch. “I promise everything will be fine now. You’re home.”

“Doesn’t look like home… it’s bigger.”

“This is home now, the palace of Valaskjálf, do you remember I used to tell you stories about it?”

Jörmungandr screwed his face up for a moment, then nodded, “Amma Frigga and Afi Odin’s house.”

Loki nodded, “Now it’s ours, although they both live here too. Afi Odin is asleep and Amma Frigga…” He tailed off, remembering, and now registering, Sverrir’s words about Frigga being in the Healing Room. “Well, I’m sure you’ll see her soon.”

He glanced at Hel, who kept her expression unreadable.

Jörmungandr yawned widely, as did Fenrir in almost perfect synchronisation. Loki immediately gathered them up and turned around, laying them on the soft, clean sheets.

“Get some sleep Jörmungandr, you’ve had a long day,” he said softly, running his hands over the matted hair. He would probably have to cut most of it away.

“Mmm… night papa…” sighed Jörmungandr, snuggling into the pillows, his thumb slipping into his mouth. Loki’s eyes burned again and he pressed a fierce kiss to the boys’ heads. Fenrir was sound asleep, his arms above his head, little legs curled slightly. Loki rested his hand on the tiny bare chest and felt the rapid flutter of the heart inside.

“Papa…” sighed Hel, stepping closer.

“Is my wife dead?” he asked in a low voice.

Hel sighed again, “I don’t know.”

Loki looked at her in confusion. Hel’s expression was grim.

“I made a deal, that our family would no longer be twisted by fate any more than anyone else. Essentially that makes you free to make your own choices and go down your own paths without interference. The problem is it means Sigyn’s path is hidden to me. I am not a fate-reader, I am simply the death-queen.”

“So you won’t know if she’s… until she’s in your domain.”

“Yes. But the fact that she is not is something, isn’t it?”

Loki remembered the vision of Sigyn caged like an animal and shuddered, “Who has her? Why have they taken her? What do they want?”

Hel did not answer, and Loki closed his eyes, realising that Hel’s ability to help was now very limited. If she had been punished for interfering before, then it was likely she would never be allowed to do so again. He turned away from the sleeping boys and curled up, his hand pressed to his mouth. Hel stepped closer and sat on the edge of the bed beside him.

“Maybe Heimdall will know,” he said as he drew in a heavy breath and ran his hand over Jörmungandr’s hair, listening to the soft snuffle he made around his thumb every few breaths. 

“Do you think I made the right decision? Having the Norns take away all that time from them?”

“Yes,” said Hel firmly. “Fenrir has known nothing but suffering and I would hate to see it strangle him as he grows unable to understand what it is that pulls at him. As for Jörmungandr, it is a matter of how he responds to it. Unlike Fenrir, Jörmungandr did grow and change over the time, but he became feral, probably dangerous, although his heart remained the same.”

“Thank you for convincing him to come to save Fenrir.”

 “It wasn’t for Fenrir, it was for you papa. Jörmungandr was looking for you.” Hel smiled faintly, “He missed you, even if he was more serpent than boy by now. He came to Asgard to find you.”

Loki’s throat closed and he tried to swallow, swaying where he sat. He was so tired, his body felt so heavy… his fingers brushed Mjölnir hanging from his belt and he wrapped them around the handle.

“Mjölnir… how?”

“The Norns agreed you needed an edge, Mjölnir was the chosen object.”

“But what about Thor?”

Hel sighed, “Odin’s spell still holds, but the easy clause of reclaiming Mjölnir is now broken. Thor won’t be able to break the spell with a grand, Odin-like, gesture of heroism. The initial spell was much deeper, it’s rooted inside his heart, which has become clogged with the delusions of princely greatness. He believes the things people say about him being infallible, perfect and always right, and even now he still thinks that a single grand gesture will get him home. But, for all his faults, Odin knew better. Mjölnir was a way to keep Thor from dying if he decided to sacrifice his life in a foolhardy act, but the spell can only be broken when he sees the worth of everyone, not just of those who think like him.”

Loki sighed, wishing for a moment that Thor could have come home, even if it was just so Loki could lean on him for comfort. Then he imagined telling Thor everything and he shuddered. Thor would be disgusted that Loki had been raped by a woman, he would be furious that Loki had stolen what Thor believed as his future wife, and he would be outraged that Loki had been so disrespectful to Tyr and the warrior class in favour of degenerate ergi. No, Thor was not a cruel man, but he was narrow-minded, or at least, had become narrow minded in recent years. He would be of no comfort to Loki now.

“And Odin? Will he ever wake?”

Hel shrugged, “I doubt it. He’s probably been very weakened by the collar forcing all that dark magic into him.”

A longer silence filled the room, as Loki slowly turned over everything that had happened. Finally,

“So… it was all just a part of the plan. My metamorphosis, the Casket of Primal Fire, even Fenrir biting off my arm. All of it was just a part of their plans, so I would end up before Bergdís and kill her and Gullveig.”

Hel did not reply, eyes fixed on the bed. Loki looked up at her, feeling a burning resentment rise inside him.

“My entire existence is to serve the purpose of eliminating my mother, grandmother, father too. And while you’re at it, I’ll father the death-queen too. Is that all I’m good for? Cleaning up the Norns mess? Killing my family? Would Odin be next? Frigga, Thor? Sigyn, or the boys?”

“No! You would never harm them,” said Hel quickly.

“And if the Norns forced my hands like they did this past day?” he asked coldly. Hel swallowed and clasped her hands in front of her. Loki gave her a bitter smile. “They wouldn’t give me a choice if it served their purpose, would they?”

“They’ve agreed to leave you be,” said Hel in a firm voice.

“I am their creation. Their tool, and if not theirs, I’m Odin’s tool. How can I trust anything I do or feel, if I was designed to serve a purpose?”

“They put you on a path, and nudged you to stay on it, but they are not the ones who made you who you are. They did not make you fall in love, did not make you care enough about Asgard to trick Thor, and rule Asgard as best you could. You are yourself, papa, they cannot touch that, and your deal is a solemn vow between them and you. You are free to do what you will.”

“So my freedom was paid for by my kinslaying?”

“Do you feel kinship with Gróa, Gullveig or Laufey?”

“No. They are nothing to me. But that doesn’t mean I’m not troubled by it.”

“Don’t be.”

Loki scowled at her. Hel sighed, “You did what had to be done.”     

“You sound like Odin,” said Loki turning his face away. Hel’s breath caught and the shadows in the room seemed to tremble.

“You won’t forgive me for my part in this, will you?”

“You knew, the whole time, you knew, and instead of just telling me outright-”

“Like father, like daughter!”

Loki snapped his head around, furious, but Hel’s steely expression gave him pause. He inhaled slowly and shook his head.

“I’m not doing this, I’m not fighting with you. I’m sick of fighting with my family.”

“I wish things could have been different, but I cannot change what has happened. The Nine Realms needed you to kill Gróa and Gullveig, you saved everything-”

“Just stop it Hela, I don’t want to hear it.”

They were quiet again, Loki went to his balcony door and looked out at the smoking city. So much damage… not even Thor could have been as disastrous as Loki in his first year of kingship. Hel’s dress made a soft rustling sound as she crossed the room to stand next to him.    

“You have to go soon, don’t you?” he asked her softly.

“Yes.”

“Will I ever see you again?”

“… Not often, but I would like to visit sometimes, so the boys know who their sister is, so my father doesn’t doubt his daughter loves him.”

“I’ll never doubt that,” said Loki, but it felt like a lie. Hel fixed Loki with a sharp look, both eyes fixed on him,

“Papa, for all intents and purposes, I believe that Thor and Odin are lost and you are king. It’s time to stop pretending you're only minding the throne until someone comes and takes it away.”

Loki looked away as Hel stepped back, regal and tall. “Asgard is yours now papa, and you must find a way to rule all its people, not just those you favour.”

Her words were like a knife in the gut, sharp and biting, and Loki closed his eyes against them. Hel’s hand brushed his cheek.

“Goodbye papa.”

“Goodbye Hela,” he whispered, and when he opened his eyes, she was gone.

With trembling hands, Loki pulled Mjölnir from his belt and set it by the bed, then he fumbled with his shirt to get it off, then his trousers, leaving him in his underwear. It was all he had the strength for, so he climbed into the bed, lifting Fenrir and resting him on his chest. If Fenrir had been in any way tense before, it all slid away in a few moments and he became a warm, heavy weight above Loki’s heart. Loki edged himself closer to the middle of the bed, where Jörmungandr was and put his arm out in a loose cradle around the older boy. Jörmungandr mumbled something around his thumb and after a few minutes, he shuffled closer and tucked his head against Loki’s side. Loki let out a long, heavy breath and reached over to the light switch embedded in the bed’s headboard. The lights went out, but every single fibre of Loki’s body yowled in protest and his mind showed him the darkness of subspace, Bergdís’ snarls as she hunted him down, and Loki quickly brought the light up again. After a few tweaks, he found a lighting level that was soothing, but he could see everything clearly. No one would catch him off guard now.

All the same, he pulled the boys closer as he closed his eyes.

**~*~**

Thor could not sleep. His thoughts were full of images of Asgard burning, Asgard freezing, of his brother and mother in chains before a hulking conqueror. Thor did not want to dwell on the fact that the shadowy conqueror looked like his own shadow. He tried to tell himself that there was always a chance that Asgard still stood, that Mjölnir had been retrieved by Odin for a purpose. It seemed desperate optimism.

Unable to stand it anymore, Thor left his apartment and marched through the streets to Captain Rogers home. Since their first meeting, there had been an unmistakable tension between them. Thor knew Captain Rogers did not think much of his friends and himself demanding open combat, and he seemed irritated by their regaling of great adventures. In fact it seemed everything about Thor and his friends seemed to annoy Rogers, and Thor was not used to being so quietly disliked by someone who was relentlessly courteous.

Still, Thor knew Rogers had experienced a similar loss and he needed to talk to someone.

Rogers somehow managed to look both surprised and expectant when he opened the door.

“Hey Thor.”

“Captain, may I speak with you?”

Steve sighed, “Sure, but for the record, I doubt I’ll be much help.” He stepped aside and Thor entered the apartment. “Drink?”

“I would like a beer if you have it.”

Steve got them both a bottle and they sat down on the couch, Steve pushing a large book aside to make room.

“So… how’re you holding up?” the mortal asked quietly.

“Truthfully, I don’t know,” said Thor, a helpless chuckle escaping him. “It never entered my wildest dreams that I wouldn’t eventually get home, not really. I certainly never thought that Asgard might be… gone.”

“You don’t know that for sure,” said Steve, fiddling with the label on his beer bottle.

“True, but I may never know for certain. If the Bifrost is gone, it will be impossible to get home either way. It is… as if we are dead to each other, Asgard and us.”

Steve nodded, peeling the label slightly, “I know what you mean, I’m in the same city I grew up in, but it’s not mine.”

Thor nodded, heaving a sigh, “What did you do to ignore the grief?”

“I train until I collapse, I pretend everything is fine, after all I’m Captain America, I can’t let people know I’m hurting.”

Thor nodded, “It is much the same as a prince of the realm. You must be the prince first and the man second.” He paused and tilted his head thoughtfully, “Perhaps I even came to believe in my own image as a prince. I thought I could do as I wished and nothing would harm me, nor would I face any real consequences. Now it seems that has all caught up with me.”

Steve raised his eyebrows curiously, “What exactly did you do anyway? To end up here I mean. All you’ve ever said is you were banished, and then your friends blame your brother.”

Thor sighed, “I was to be crowned king, it was to my moment of triumph. Everyone was cheering as I stood before my father to swear the oath, but before I could finish, three Frost Giants broke into the Weapons Vault and attempted to steal our most powerful weapon. They were stopped and slain by the Guardian, but it had interrupted… and spoiled, my coronation. I said we ought to go to Jötunheim and make an example of them, so that they would never do such a thing again. My father refused…”

Thor forced himself to recount the events as objectively as he could, even as he watched Rogers’ face grow more and more stony.

“That… you… Christ!” Rogers bit off when Thor’s story was finished. He looked faintly ill. “You’re practically a war criminal Thor! You're the kind of man SHIELD fights, that so many good men I served with in the 40’s died to stop.”

“I am no criminal!” snapped Thor, but even he couldn’t deny the similarities. “The Jötnar are our enemies, and while my father pretended things were fine, the Nine Realms were laughing at us!”

“So what? Are you a kid who can’t handle being teased? Since the day I met you you’ve done nothing but brag about how great and powerful and mighty Asgard is, what do you care if someone takes a few shots at you?”

Thor flushed red, “I did not come to quarrel.”

“No, you came for a sympathetic ear, but I’m afraid I’ve none to give after hearing that.” Steve shook his head in disgust and got to his feet.

“Do you think I do not regret my actions?” demanded Thor.

“I think you regret that you got in trouble for it, but I don’t sense much regret over what you actually did.”

“Do you regret killing your enemies?”

“That was different.”

“Not as much as you wish it was.”

“I would never kill hundreds of people because I was called a girl!”

“It was a battle!”

“It was a tantrum!”

“What do you know of it? You are a child in the eyes of my kind!”

“Yet you’re the one who was put in time out by his dad because he was bold,” snapped Rogers, his bottle giving an ominous snick of glass under pressure in his hand. Thor worked his jaw furiously, clenching and unclenching his fists. The silence was tense as a taunt rope, ready to snap. Thor sucked on his beer deeply, sullenly resenting the mortal man, who seemed to think himself superior to Thor, who was his senior in age and had hundreds of times more experience in all things.

Rogers shifted above him, then sat down on the other end of the couch, leaving the book he had been looking at between them. Thor could feel Rogers’ tension where he sat, and since he did not want to fight, he picked the book up.

“I have seen this in Coulson’s hands.”

“It’s his, he lent it to me. It’s some collection he started as a kid, and he thought I might find it nice to relive some memories. It’s all sorts of newspaper clippings, photos, even food stamps and tickets from the shows I did.”

Thor had a vague idea about Rogers’ background, and he had found it odd and rather ridiculous, but he could not deny Rogers’ strength and power now.

“May I?”

Rogers gave him an unfriendly look, but waved a hand jerkily, as if to say ‘do what you want’. Thor started to turn the pages, smirking faintly at some of the photos.

“These women are fair, were they your wenches to keep you amused as you travelled?”

“They were chorus girls! They weren’t –no!” said Rogers irritably, a flush of red in his cheeks. Thor shrugged,

“A pity for you then.” And he turned the page. “What of this one?”

Rogers sighed, and leaned over to see what Thor was looking at. “Oh, that was one of the many shows to promote food bonds, that one was in New York, that other one was in Sacramento, and that one was in Texas. I probably saw more of this country than anyone could have dreamed at the time, even if it was all… empty.”

Thor glanced at him curiously, “You seem to be enjoying yourself in the pictures.”

“Yeah, well, I had convinced myself that I really was doing my part, fighting for freedom. I wasn’t used to getting so much attention, it kinda went to my head.”

Thor pondered these words as he idly turned pages, when something caught his eye and he did a double-take. His eyes fixed on a picture next to a newspaper clipping and he stared, eyes widening. Rogers gave a soft chuckle and tapped the clipping.

“I remember them, it was a charity gala, with a dance contest and these two blew everyone out of the water. I remember being impressed at how he could throw her into the air and catch her without any fear. Nice couple, I think they’d just gotten married, probably eloped really –can’t remember their names, I think they were English though.”

“Loki…” breathed Thor, his fingers trembling as he touched the face of the man in the picture.

“What?”

“That’s Loki! That’s my brother Loki!”

“What?” Rogers leaned closer, peering over his shoulder. “Are you sure?”

“That man is my brother, and that woman in his arms is Crown Princess Sigyn –my future wife!” Blood surged into Thor’s head and he stood up, trembling as he stared at the smiling pair. Their silent laughter seemed to mock him, jeering at him through time. This must have been taken years ago, they had been sneaking around behind his back –Loki had taken his throne, his hammer, and now his queen!

“Hey!” Rogers wrestled the book out of his hands as Thor’s shaking threatened to make him rip it apart. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“My brother is a traitorous liar and a thief!” roared Thor, and with no other outlet for his rage he slammed his fists down into the coffee table, smashing it to pieces. “He has taken everything from me, my home, my throne, and now my queen!”

Rogers stared at him as he pummelled the bits of wood, over and over again.

“I trusted him! I trusted him when he said he loved me, but how could he love me if he was so willing to deceive me, to betray me? He’s abandoned me to this tiny, insignificant dot of a planet, left me trapped in this weak and dying body, and claimed everything of mine for himself! He’s let Asgard be harmed, he’s dishonoured our parents, the traitorous, lying bastard!”

There was a final, wet crunch of wood and Thor knelt among the wreckage of the coffee table, his hands bleeding onto the white rug beneath. His chest hurt, his face burned and he was embarrassed to feel the snot running from his nose as he struggled to breathe. He swayed and his vision swam as he toppled onto his side, curling up into a ball.

His hands should not bleed so easily, his lungs should not struggle from his own temper, he should not be so weak as to collapse from his rage.

He was not Prince Thor, he was not even Aesir, and he never would be again.

He was a mortal man, lowly and lost as all of them around him, with no way home, and no more faith. How long had he held to his trust in his brother, believing that even when Loki made trouble, he had loved him, but this… this betrayal, this act of selfish secrecy, it was too much.

His friends had been right all along about Loki, and Thor could no long pretend otherwise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SHIELD does know what Thor did –they would have asked, but that information would stay with Fury and Coulson. They probably felt it was better Cap didn’t know.


	65. The Mourning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Exhausted and drained, Loki tries to find Sigyn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extra Long chapter but I felt it all fit together as a single part, so I left it as it is.   
> Some people seem to have missed that I’m planning a sequel –so I’m just saying it again. There is a sequel in the works, so anything that isn’t wrapped up here, is being pulled into the next story.   
> Enjoy!

The darkness of Loki’s chambers was creeping in on him, swallowing the soft lights he had left on, casting him into further blackness. He pulled his arms around the boys and held them close.

“No. No please don’t,” he whimpered, trying to rise but some invisible force was holding him down as the darkness crept closer, shadows forming hands reaching for the boys. “No! Don’t take them away from me, you can’t –DON’T!”

“Enough!”

Light blasted through the darkness, cutting it to ribbons. There was an unholy screech of rage, it sounded just like Bergdís when Loki had killed her, and the darkness disappeared completely to be replaced with rainbows of colour. They were coming from his mirror. The glass had turned opaque.

Loki stared at it in disbelief. No, it couldn’t be.

The light parted and Sigyn stepped through the glass. Loki sat up, free and unburdened, as she walked across the room to him, wearing a green dress that hugged her curves, her hair long and free about her shoulders.

“Sigyn?”

She smiled at him, hands extended palm up towards him.

“Husband,” she whispered, smile widening as Loki reached out and took her hands, getting to his feet.

“I thought –how?” he asked, sliding his hands up her arms and feeling the strength of her arms. Sigyn reached up and clasped his head in her hands.

“Shush, it’s alright,” she murmured, pulling him in for a chaste kiss. Loki moaned, squeezing her shoulders and pulling her body against his, revelling in the warmth of her body.

“Sigyn, Sigyn I love you,” he gasped, kissing her face over and over.

“I love you husband,” she sighed, dropping her head back as Loki started making his way down her neck. He turned her around and pushed her onto the bed, her dress dissolving under his hands. “Make love to me,”

“I never want to lose you, never be from your arms again,” Loki swore, his voice muffled against her skin. “Say you won’t leave me.”

Sigyn moaned as he kissed and caressed her breasts, arching her back as he rested his hips against hers, her hands tugging on his arms. He moved back up her body and whimpered against her mouth,

“Say it Sigyn, say you won’t leave me,”

“Mmm,” she murmured, “Why should I if you’re just going to throw me away?”

Loki froze and looked at her face. Sigyn’s hair was gone, hacked away, and blood trickled down her chin from her split lip. Her eyes were dark as they stared up at him accusingly. “Why should I stay if you’re going to just throw me to the wolves? Wolves you don’t even know about. You don’t know who they are, why they have me –what they’re doing to me.”

“No, no Sigyn you’re here, I didn’t –I had to save the boys. I had to save them,” Loki pleaded, trying to kiss her, to reassure himself that she was with him.

“Yes, you had to save them,” she agreed, lips moving against his, “But why haven’t you come for me? Why did you just hide away like a coward?”

“The boys needed to be safe.”

“Don’t I need to be safe?” she asked quietly, reaching up and clasping his head in her hands again, only it was too tight. “Don’t I deserve to be safe?”

“Yes! Yes, I want you safe, Sigyn please.” Loki clawed at her hands, they were crushing his head. Blood dribbled down Sigyn’s chin, from her eyes, her ears as she glared up at him.

“You left me to die! You left me Loki!”

“I’ll find you! Please I’ll find you!”

“You didn’t even think of me, you only cared about those boys –you swore I was everything to you.”

“No, I will find you, I will! Please stop.”

He was on his knees before her, as she crushed his skull between her hands. Her skin burst open in places from her neck down over her breasts, across her stomach and down her legs. Her lips were pulled back into a furious snarl as she squeezed harder and harder. Loki tried to pry her off, but her grip was as unbreakable as Mjölnir.

“Please, I’ll find you! I’ll find you!”

Sigyn let out a screech and her hands crushed his skull, blinding him as he tumbled through nothingness, and Bergdís was laughing, Thor was laughing –everyone was laughing as Sigyn screamed and screamed for him to save her –

“NO!”

Loki jolted awake, and his eyes darted from one side to the other. He was still in his chambers, with his sons sleeping with him. They were safe… but Sigyn wasn’t.

Loki sat up carefully, easing Fenrir onto the bed next to Jörmungandr. He passed his hand over Jörmungandr’s hair and then he started drawing runes on the bed, building up layers of protection around the two. He despised the idea of leaving them, but he had to find Sigyn, he had already lost so much time to his disorientated foolishness. For good measure he summoned up a double to watch over them while he was gone.

He changed quickly into his light armour and strapped as many daggers as he could to his body. He would find Sigyn, free her from whomever had her and he would take her here, to his chambers, where they would all be safe.

He reached out to his mirror, spared his sons one last glance, then tapped the rune on his mirror. Nothing happened. Brow furrowing, Loki tapped the rune again, harder this time, but still nothing happened. Then he remembered what the Norns had shown him in Yggdrasil, the fighting and the stump of the Bifrost –it had exploded. Loki’s hands trembled against the frame as he realised that couldn’t have been a result of the civil fighting, that had to have been someone else, something else. He shook it off and focused on his mirror.

Had the connection been damaged in the Bifrost explosion? Loki bent forward, examining the frame, the glass, he even paced around the mirror to see if it had been damaged at the back. Realistically though the damage would not be physical, it would be metaphysical. Resting his hands on the frame, Loki closed his eyes and focused on the portal the mirror opened. It had been a tricky bit of seiðr back when they had made it together and it was still tricky now. The paths between the Nine Realms were many and varied, but to actually harness one had been a challenge. They had had to find a pathway, and link into it via the mirrors, not unlike building a canal to connect to a natural river. If the pathway had been shaken by the Bifrost the connection might have been lost and he wouldn’t be able to repair it without Sigyn at the other end of the pathway. A normal earthquake would not have damaged it, it was only the Bifrost which harnessed the natural pathways to work that could have harmed it.

Loki pressed his hands against the glass and focused, hoping his seiðr and his body were strong enough to let him try. A mere brush of his mind into the subspace confirmed the worst. The pathway was gone, and without it he had no easy way to Sigyn. Even if he could find the pathway’s natural opening, it would be unstable from the Bifrost’s explosion.

But there had to be a way, if he could only see her, be sure she was alive, even if she wasn’t safe –he could save her from danger, but not death.

Loki blinked and focused on his own reflection, taking in his exhausted, hollowed features, and he traced the runes for sight on the glass. His own face vanished and dark shadows, not unlike that of subspace, rippled across.

“Show me, show me Sigyn,” he commanded, willing his sight to stretch. Scrying was not Loki’s forte, but at this point he doubted that any magic was beyond him, and he was willing to try just about anything to find her. The shadows seemed to pull him forwards, down, down, down, until they parted and he saw her. She was still bloody, still naked, still bald. So all of that had been true. Instead of being crouched, she lay on her side, head pillowed on one arm, eyes shut. Loki leaned forward, the image was flickering, hazy, he couldn’t tell if she was breathing or not, but he thought he could see her bare neck, was that collar chaining her down gone?

He stared at her hungrily, willing her to move, breathe, anything to tell him she was alive. She didn’t move, and the harder he stared, the fainter the image became as his strength slipped away. But he couldn’t let her go.

“Please, please wake up, show me you’re alive. Sigyn, please, wake up,” he whispered. He needed to know, he needed to know there was still a chance, that he had time to save her even if the Norns had said he could not. If he only had the strength, but even as he thought it, she flickered away and he was left staring at his own reflection.

“No. No. Please no,” he whispered, sinking to his knees before the mirror. “Please, just a minute more, let me see her.”

But the mirror was unmoved. Loki’s strength was completely drained. He had allowed the Norns to unmake and reforge him once more, in his original body of flesh carrying seiðr, and he no longer channelled the whole universe through his body. He was a sorcerer as any other, which meant, especially after everything his body had been through the past… however long he had been gone, he had no more strength to actually wield his magic.

Loki had not felt this drained since he was a boy just learning how to cast illusions of butterflies for Frigga.

Without his strength, he couldn’t even see his wife, let alone mount a rescue.

“I’m sorry Sigyn. Please, I’ll find you, I will. Just hold on a little more, and I’ll find you,” he swore to the air, to the ground, to all the wrong things. He needed her to hear it and he hadn’t even the strength to send her a note as they had once done as easily as breathing.

There was a whimper from the bed and Loki looked at his sons, Fenrir was starting to stir, his hands rubbing at his face. Loki crawled across the floor and struggled to sit on the bed. He picked Fenrir up and laid his small head on his shoulder. Fenrir let out an unhappy sound, kicking against Loki’s armour. Loki shushed him gently and set him down again. His hands shaking with effort, he pulled off his armour and threw it aside carelessly. It did him no good, what use was it now? Back in his underwear, he lay down with Fenrir on his chest once more and his arm around Jörmungandr. Fenrir settled again, yawning and then falling back asleep.

“Do you remember Sigyn, Fenrir?” Loki slurred, exhaustion dragging him under. “Do you remember how much she loves you? You’ll know soon. I’ll find her, I’ll find her…” 

_I’ll find you…_

**~*~**

It had taken the combined efforts of Captain Rogers, a SHIELD doctor, Agent Romanoff and Hogun to get Thor off the floor of Rogers’ home and into the nearest SHIELD medical bay. Thor felt disorientated, weak and shaken, but also giddy and he kept making strange noises mixed between laughs and sobs. Shock, the doctors called it, wrapping Thor in a blanket and giving him some tea. He would have preferred ale, or better yet, he would have rather his brother’s neck between his hands instead of a black mug.

Loki had betrayed him. He had stolen everything from Thor.

Why? Why had Loki done this? Did he really hate Thor so much he would do this to him? Steal all his due and leave Thor to die a quick and pointless death?

He heard Sif’s soft footfalls as she approached him, but did not look up.

“Thor?”

“You were right Sif, my brother is false.” His voice sounded hollow to his own ears.

“I saw the picture,” said Sif as she carefully sat next to him. “You’re better than them, you deserve better than her.”

Thor shook his head, “Please don’t. I don’t want to think about either of them.”

Sif nodded, “As you wish. The doctors asked me to check if you felt ready to come ho –come back to the apartment.”

Thor shrugged, “I don’t care.”

“Actually, before you go, I think you should see this,” said Agent Coulson from across the room. Thor finally lifted his head to see Coulson beckoning him over. Heaving a sigh, Thor got to his feet and trudged over to the short man. “After Captain Rogers showed me what upset you, I decided to take a gamble and I had Stark use JARVIS to search for any other records of your brother and his wife-”

“They are not married, only Odin could marry them,” said Sif sharply.

“-to see if they’ve been on Earth more recently,” Coulson finished without missing a beat.

“You’ve found something?” asked Thor in surprise, his blanket slipping down his shoulders as he straightened up a little.

“Yeah, it’s a bit strange though, so we were hoping you could take a look.”

**~*~**

For a split second as he woke up, Loki could not understand why there was a warm lump on his chest, but in a rush which left him breathless, he remembered.

His sons, returned.

His wife, lost.

Asgard, devastated.

Opening his eyes, Loki’s arm flung out for Jörmungandr, but he was not in the bed. Clutching Fenrir close, Loki looked around frantically, hardly able to think as his heart pounded in his chest, loud in his ears.

“Jörmungandr?” he called, easing out of bed and tucking Fenrir into his neck as he looked around his room properly. It took him far too long to notice the doors to his balcony were wide open and his stomach dropped as he hurried to them, imagining someone stealing Jörmungandr from his bed.

Pushing aside the curtains, he found Jörmungandr on his toes, peering over the rim of the balcony, staring down at the slightly smoking city. Loki’s stomach clenched in disbelief as he realised his sons were really here, with him, after all this time.

“Jörmungandr?” he called again, reaching out his hand to him. Jörmungandr looked at him and his pale eyes blinked at him, staring at him in confusion.

“Papa?”

“Yes, yes I am papa,” said Loki, drinking in the boy’s face, the way his skin seemed to glitter in the sunlight with its silvery sheen.

“You don’t look right.” Jörmungandr pressed back against the balustrade, looking faintly mistrustful.

“I have aged, Jörmungandr, but you have not, that’s all.”

Jörmungandr frowned, “Why?”

Loki smiled faintly and flexed his outstretched hand, “Come inside, and I’ll tell you all about it.”

Jörmungandr looked up at the sky, his frown becoming perplexed, “We’re… outside?”

“Sort of, you’re in the open air, but you’re still in the palace. But come inside, I’ve a story to tell you, and I’ll brush out your hair while I do it –it’s all tangled.”

That convinced Jörmungandr, who had always enjoyed being groomed, to take Loki’s hand. Once they were inside, Loki had him sit for a moment, and went to his bed, where he set Fenrir down and wrapped him in some of the sheets to keep him warm. Fenrir’s hand slipped free almost at once and, after a few moments of uncoordinated flailing, the fist disappeared into his mouth.

Loki smiled and went to his drawer, to retrieve his comb. However, as soon as he put his back to both boys, he felt his hackles rise because he could not see them, and he turned around quickly. They were still there, Jörmungandr running his hands over the blue material on the chair he sat on. They were both so small he could hardly keep himself calm, thinking of all the people who had turned on him, who could have hurt them. He found himself walking backwards to his drawers, opening them up and fumbling for a comb, he could not take his eyes off them.

They were here, they were real, they were alive and healthy –Loki strode across the room as soon as he had the comb in his hand and he crouched before Jörmungandr, embracing him tight. Jörmungandr gave a tiny, almost indignant squeak as his face was pressed to Loki’s chest.

“Papa! You having a sad day?”

Loki’s eyes were burning, but he managed to keep his eyes free of tears as he held Jörmungandr’s upper arms in his hands and made the boy look him in the eye.

“No, no, this is not a sad day. It’s a happy day, because I have you back.”

“Where’d I go?”

“Away, far away,” said Loki, his voice cracking slightly, “You were turned into your serpent form and stuck that way, and you got lost in Midgard, and I could not find you. I looked and looked for so long, but I could not find you. And then, I got into trouble, and you came to save me, and save your brother, who had also gone away. Do you remember any of that?”

Jörmungandr frowned and shook his head, “No. Was I gone long?”

“Very, very long.”

“I’m sorry. That why you look sad?”

“Yes, I was very sad, very, very sad without you and your sister and brother.”

“My sister’s gone too?” Jörmungandr sounded confused and his hands dug into Loki’s arms for security.

“You met her yesterday, remember?”

“Oh… yes, but she’s all big now.”

Loki lifted Jörmungandr up and settled himself in the chair, putting Jörmungandr in his lap. “Do you remember how your sister was very sick all the time?”

Jörmungandr nodded as Loki wrapped his hand around the ends of the matted hair and started to ease the comb through it, almost at once getting tangled. “Well, when we were brought here, before you were lost, Afi Odin took her to the realm of Niflheim, which is different to anywhere else. It’s the place you go when you die, but Hela didn’t die, she became its queen. The magic of Niflheim made her grow very fast, and now she’s older than me.”

“Older than you? How?”

“That… I’ll explain another day, it’s very complicated and I want to tell you about what happened to you.”

Jörmungandr huffed, “Alright.”

Despite his words, Loki did not launch into an explanation, rather he focused on detangling the hair in his hands, turning over his options. His deal with the Norns had been that the boys both be restored to their bodies before they were taken from him so long ago, with their memories, if not removed, at least diffused. Fenrir would hopefully never remember his time chained and broken, and his body was exactly as it had been the day he was born. Jörmungandr too had been restored to his four year old body, whole and hale, with his memories of the long years as a serpent obliterated. It had been the best thing he could do, give his boys a second chance without the weight of their experiences holding them back and apart. It was easier to let everyone, including them, believe that they had been unconscious inside their creature sides, trapped and helpless, unable to control themselves. “Jörmungandr, what’s the last thing you remember?”

Jörmungandr hummed and tilted his head, “Um… mama’s in her reading room. You’re making dinner. Hel’s crying. I’m chasing a mouse. I looked outside. There was a grey man outside.”

Loki’s stomach lurched, remembering the moment.

“I showed you the grey man. You looked at him for ages.” Jörmungandr turned and curled up against Loki’s chest, mumbling into his knees, “I got scared, you looked really sad.”

Loki wrapped his arms around him and held him tight, burying his nose in the matted hair. “And then?”

“You said let’s play a game of hide and seek. You started counting and I hid under my bed, because it’s the best hiding place.”

The only hiding place.

“And then?”

“I dunno. It’s all fuzzy. I’m under the bed –and now I’m here.”

So the Norns had blotted out the memory of Loki killing Angrboda and eating her heart to consume her magic enough to lower all her defensive shields that Odin could sense, but not penetrate. Loki felt his stomach unclench slightly as he stroked Jörmungandr’s hair. He knew the question would come, and he wasn’t ready for it, and probably never would be. At last, Jörmungandr’s quiet voice came,

“Papa… where’s mama?”

Loki swallowed thickly, “She… she’s dead Jörmungandr. She lives with Hela now.”

“Oh…” Jörmungandr’s small hand reached up and rested on Loki’s chest. “Will she come back?”

“No, no she won’t, my boy. She… she loves you still, but she can’t come home. We cannot revive the dead.”

“But, she leaves all the time, and she always comes back,” Jörmungandr insisted.

“Not this time. She, she died so you could come here with me. So you could have a happy life.”

Jörmungandr was quiet for a long time, his thin arm reaching up to curl behind Loki’s neck. Then he said quietly, like confessing a terrible secret,

“I’m glad you’re here instead?”

Loki’s throat closed and he squeezed him tight, shaking his head hard. Eventually Jörmungandr pulled away and sat in his lap again, peering at Fenrir, who was starting to stir.

“So… where did he come from?”

Loki had an answer for that, “Fenrir was the last gift from your mother before she died.”

“Oh… is he as noisy as Hela?”

“No, I don’t think so. He hasn’t made a sound yet, has he?”

“No.”

As if he heard them, Fenrir opened his eyes and blinked hard, then let out a soft wail. Jörmungandr’s hands clapped to his ears at once, grimacing. Loki had had to have Angrboda create a set of charmed ear muffs for Jörmungandr to help him block out Hela’s crying after Jörmungandr had had a fit on the floor of sheer misery because of the relentless sound. It did not surprise Loki that the sound of a baby crying made Jörmungandr so twitchy and distressed, he had been forced to listen for days on end when nothing Loki or Angrboda did helped his baby sister.

“It’s alright,” he said softly to both of them, easing Jörmungandr to his feet and picking Fenrir up, settling him in his arms, “Shush now, it’s all fine, you're safe now.”

Fenrir’s wail died to a whimper, but he was squirming, turning his head from side to side, searching for food. Loki knew he would have to be hungry, but there were no bottles nor milk in his chambers, and he did not trust his seiðr. That meant calling a servant to get some. Loki didn’t want anyone in his chambers, not even to deliver food for his children, but he was not ready to leave with them yet. Jörmungandr had never known anything but a single large room, taking him outside would be very distressing. Loki decided to call upon someone he trusted, and he went to the wall, pressing the console there and bringing up the caller for the only person he trusted to do this.

“Hlin.”

 _“Yes your majesty?”_ she replied quickly, sounding breathless and tired.

“Bring me a baby’s bottle of milk, and a tray of soft foods for a child.”

 _“Yes your majesty,”_ she said without missing a beat. Loki flicked off the console and sighed. He never used that system, unlike Thor who used it for everything. It felt like he was throwing open his doors and exposing himself.

“People bring you food?” asked Jörmungandr with wide eyes.

“Yes, they bring me whatever I ask. I’m their king, which makes you their prince.” Loki turned to his naked son and eyed him thoughtfully. “We’ll need to get you some new clothes, but for now you can wear one of my shirts.”

After some one-handed rummaging in his wardrobe, Loki pulled out a soft cream shirt and helped Jörmungandr into it. It was of course far too big for him, but it was something. Loki ruffled the mass of hair with a faint smile.

“We might need to cut your hair all off, it’s very matted.”

Jörmungandr sulked and pulled at his hair, “Feels stiff!”

There was a soft knock on the doors to his chambers, and Loki called, “Come!”

A few minutes later, Hlin knocked on the door to his bedchambers, and Loki opened them. Hlin went scarlet at once and dropped her eyes,

“Th-the food your majesty,” she mumbled.

Loki frowned, then realised he was still in his underwear. Not caring in the slightest, he stepped back and said, “Put it on the table Hlin.”

Hlin did so, glancing curiously at Jörmungandr, who stared back, looking bewildered. Fenrir was rooting in earnest now at Loki’s chest, desperate for a nipple to suck, so Loki grabbed the bottle and pressed it to his lips. It took a moment for Fenrir to figure it out, and for Loki to remember how to hold him right, but then Fenrir latched on and sucked hard. His dark eyes seemed to gaze up at Loki reproachfully, as if to scold him for taking so long to feed him.

“I know, I know,” crooned Loki, “I’m sorry you had to wait, but it’ll never happen again my son. You’ll have whatever you want, I promise.”

Jörmungandr hugged at Loki’s leg, hiding his face as he grew shy under Hlin’s nervous stares. She was standing by the table, wide eyes fixed on Loki.

“I…” she started, then trailed into silence.

Loki glared at her, wondering why she was still there, interrupting his time with his sons. Hlin’s colour drained from her cheeks and she pointed awkwardly at the tray, “I brought some food for your majesty too. I thought you might be hungry, you’ve been so busy… and I’m so glad you’re not hurt,” she finished in a rush, blushing again.

Loki gave her a blunt nod,

“Well, thank you Hlin, I’m glad you’re well too.” And because he knew he should, “How is my mother?”

“Queen Frigga… she is not well your majesty, it –it’s unclear if she will survive her injuries,” she said with a soft whimper. “And the poor boy she was protecting, his mother’s been found dead, and we don’t know about his father, or brother. He keeps asking for them, but we don’t know –no one knows what’s going on really.”

“Sverrir is meant to be caring for it all.”

“And he is doing his best, but everyone keeps asking for you, or Queen Frigga.”

Loki felt his eye twitch, but he tried not to tense, lest he disturb Fenrir who was now suckling at a more sedate pace, a look of pure bliss on his face. Irresistibly, Loki felt his own face relaxing into a smile, hardly able to believe that he was holding his son, watching him eat his first meal.

Only, it wasn’t Fenrir's first meal, Loki realised, his smile fading. Sigyn had nursed him in the shape of a wolf bitch, had bypassed her body’s natural processed to make milk to try and keep Fenrir strong. When Loki could not, Sigyn had been there, bathing him with her tongue, crooning to him when he cried…

“Papa!”       “My king!”

Loki’s legs had buckled and he had fallen into his chair, upsetting Fenrir, who coughed, then threw up everything he had just ingested, and began to wail. Jörmungandr clapped his hands over his ears and burst into tears. Loki reached for him, dropping the bottle, milk spilling everywhere, but Jörmungandr shrank back from the noise, eyes bulging slightly.

“No, Jörmungandr don’t-” pleaded Loki, his voice clashing against the two crying boys. Too late, Jörmungandr turned away, shuddered hard to take on his serpent form, and disappeared under the bed.

“Oh my –here, let me-”

Loki snarled, swinging his arm out and shoving Hlin backwards into the table. She hit it with a clatter and fell to the ground.

“You will not touch my sons!” he roared, “No one will touch my sons, do you hear me?”

Hlin scrambled back on her hands, trembling from head to foot, “My king-”

“Get out!” roared Loki, “Get out!”

Hlin fled. The doors slammed shut behind her, leaving a silence broken only by Fenrir’s screaming wails. Shaking, Loki mopped up the sick as best he could with a towel, shushing Fenrir in a choked voice.

“Stop, please hush, I’m sorry Fenrir, it’s alright, she’s gone now. It’s just us, no one else. Everything is fine now.”

He picked up the bottle, shook it and found it was still half full, so he pressed the nipple to Fenrir’s lips, who accepted it with far less enthusiasm, taking more cautious sucks this time. Loki was careful to sit in his chair, without moving, as he watched Fenrir gradually relax again. Then something dripped onto the downy hair, making Fenrir’s eyes pop open. Loki blinked and realised he had tears rolling down his cheeks. His eyes locked with Fenrir’s and it was like staring at every accusatory thought he had ever had at himself.

Why had he let this happen? Why did he not fight harder to free them, to bring them home? How dare he bring someone near them when they weren’t ready? Why was he so useless? Why was he such a failure as a father?

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he whispered, head bowed and tears falling.

The voice of comfort in his head that had always sounded like Sigyn was silent.

**~*~**

“So,” said Coulson as he sat Thor in front of a computer screen. “When JARVIS searched for anything on Luke and Siri Skywalker, we at first found the obvious Star Wars connection.”

“Your brother is a nerd by the way,” said Stark from where he was draped over the railing looking wired and sleepy at the same time.  

“The name predates the films Stark,” said Rogers wearily.

“A pre-emptive nerd then, but still a nerd.”

“This stuff can take weeks once that was set aside,” said Coulson over Stark, “After all, the internet has a lot of information, but even its databases need to be searched, so I honestly didn’t expect to find anything really, not for a while anyway.”

“But you have found something?” asked Sif, her hand on Thor’s shoulder. Thor said nothing, he had no strength left.

“Only because it’s very recent.”

“How recent?”

Stark stepped forward and flicked his finger over the sensitive screen, causing the image to shift to video footage.

“This is a self-storage facility in Switzerland –because of course it’s in Switzerland –and about three months ago, someone opened a new box under the names Siri and Luke Skywalker.”

“Three months ago?” repeated Sif as Thor lifted his head.

“A woman came in and arranged it with cash, now it isn’t the same woman in the photo, but maybe it’s connected. There can’t be that many real Luke Skywalkers with wives called Siri, and this is a secure location, associated with the Swiss banks, you need proper legal documents to set up the account.”

Stark waggled his fingers and the video footage started moving. Thor watched as a woman strode into the storage office. Stark paused it at a good angle.

“Is she familiar?” asked Coulson. Thor sagged in defeat,

“No. I don’t recognise her.”

“Because you never paid them attention –it’s one of the Ey!” said Sif with a sharp finger-jab at the screen.

“An eye?” repeated Rogers with a frown.

“No, one of the Ey, one of the maids who serves Sigyn, they’re her shadows –they even bathe her.”

“Yeah?” asked Stark, eyebrows perking up.

“So this woman isn’t from Earth?”

“No, it’s definitely one of the Ey.”

Thor squinted at the woman in a Midgardian suit and decided Sif was right. It was definitely one of Sigyn’s maids.

“It looks like she opened a joint account under those names and then deposited several boxes into the storage unit,” said Coulson with his arms folded over his chest.

“I wonder what she was hiding for her mistress,” said Sif darkly.

“Maybe we should find out,” said Thor finally getting to his feet.

“Can we legally do that? Should we do that?” asked Rogers uneasily. “It could be personal.”

“I think old Nick would have a response to that; If it’s alien, it’s ours,” said Stark, leaning on the nearest railing.

“You just hope there’s tech in there you can play with,” said Rogers.

“Oh forgive me for hoping to explore futuristic alien tech, but it is one the greatest flaws of us genius, millionaire philanthropists, along with being devastatingly handsome.”

“I would know what it is Sigyn is hiding away on Midgard,” Thor rumbled as he turned to Coulson.

“Do you think it could be a threat?”

“I doubt it, but I would still know its contents.”

Thor knew he would find secrets, probably all the secrets Loki had ever told him, in that unit. Why else hide it here on Midgard, unless the contents were a scandal, and they were hoping to avoid it?

Thor was determined to find out.

**~*~**

Dag peered through the slab of Bifrost he had come upon, watching the water ripple behind it. The rainbow colours made the water shimmer, like an otherworldly portal. It was rather beautiful, and Dag wished he had spent more time just appreciating the Bifrost’s beauty.

“Ouch!”

Dag turned. One of the men helping him search the beach was clutching his foot, blood seeping from his shoe through with a shard of Bifrost had pierced.

“Someone tend to him, the rest of you, fan out and search your assigned quadrants. The sensors definitely detected him in this area, but since so many were damaged, they couldn’t be more specific than 10 miles.”

The men and women who had volunteered to help did as he said, spreading out with their tablets, a map on the screens. Dag held his own in front of his face and made his way to his quadrant, the young man assigned to help him chasing at his heels.

Their quadrant was in a rocky outcrop of the beach, and there were many places their quarry could have dragged himself into to rest. Dag was determined to check every single space, no matter how unlikely, all the while wondering if there was something else he could be doing to help. Sverrir was doing everything in his power to keep things calm and running smoothly, but he was exhausted, and so was Reifer’s mother, Eir, who was trying to keep Queen Frigga alive and tend to everyone else’s injuries, without allowing her concern for her missing husband distract her. Reifer, meanwhile, was working with the einherjar to round up every traitor and drag them back to the capital to face the king’s justice, whatever that would be. Dag knew that Reifer personally checked every body in case it was his father Hoder. For his part, Dag was trying to focus on his jobs and be only grateful that his own family was well.

“Sir Dag?” asked the young man, sidling up to him.

“Yes?”

“I… I wonder if you could tell me something.”

“I can try, what is it?”

“It’s just… about the king. There are rumours going around that worry me for him.”

Dag looked at him and could see the glimmer in his eye, the wheedling expression. Dag narrowed his eyes.

“Go on?”

“People are saying the king won’t come out of his chambers, and won’t see anyone at all. They say he’s locked himself away with the monsters Fenrir and Jörmungandr, and is plotting to feed all the traitors to them. People are saying he’s gone mad from Tyr’s treachery, from Mjölnir’s power, and from some kind of deal he made with the Death-Queen Hel.”

Dag glared at him, “If you think of me as some kind of gossip-monger you are a fool. The king is not feeding anyone to anything. There are no monsters and the king is not mad-”

“The king has not been seen for four says, not since he defeated Tyr.”

Dag grabbed the front of the man’s shirt, dragging him nose to nose as he hissed, “The king is not at your beck and call, he is your sovereign that you have sworn loyalty to, and you will not speak against him. Now do as you are told and search the beach!”

The man wisely disappeared from sight. Dag growled to himself about dishonourable swine as he searched the many rocky crevasses along his search area. Still, he could not say he was surprised by any of those rumours, the realm was in a state of complete confusion, but Loki had not left his chambers to deal with it since he had defeated Tyr, and Sverrir and Kvasir were guarding him with all the fierceness of mother-wolves.

Sverrir had clumsily explained that Loki was the father of Jörmungandr-Serpent and Fenrir-Wolf, and that neither were monsters but innocent children, but that information was being kept between five people and going no further until they knew what exactly Loki wanted said. The only one who had seen the king or the boys had been the handmaiden of Frigga’s that Loki favoured, and she had fled the king’s chambers sobbing –some rumours had suggested Loki had tried to feed her to the monsters.

The rumours would only stop when Loki came out, but Sverrir was being stubborn, saying Loki deserved time with his sons. Dag wasn’t sure how much more time they could afford to give him. Sverrir had declared that there would be an official feast of honour for the dead and the heroes when the trials were over and the king satisfied that order was restored, which had bought them some time. But only Loki, silvertongued king, could explain away the monsters, the torturing of Odin, and the visit of Death-Queen Hel.

“Sir Dag!” cried the young man. Dag looked around, “Sir Dag, I found him!”

Dag ran to where he was standing, peering into a small cavern in the cliffs. A flash of gold was all he needed to see to know that the man was right.

“Heimdall!”

**~*~**

Frigga was stable. It was the best Eir could say, the queen was stable. Whether she would remain that way was up to her.

With the stasis web shimmering soft blue over her to monitor her, Eir left Frigga to rest and went to tend to her other patients. As she went, she nearly stepped on a small figure.

“Thundi, get into bed,” she said without heat.

“I want to protect the queen,” said Thundi stubbornly, his arm held to his chest. Eir had only been able to set it, she had needed the healing stones for more urgent injuries, but the blond boy was stubbornly concealing his pain, even after the loss of his mother. His whole focus was on protecting and guarding the queen from the monster serpent Jörmungandr for King Loki. It was often easier to let him sit at the queen’s feet and stay out of the way until they could find his father or brother, which was beginning to look less and less likely.

“Very well, but eat what you’re given,” said Eir, ruffling his hair and hurrying on to her next charge. As she bent over the young man, the door opened and Dag came running in.

“We found him! We found Heimdall, but he needs you now,” said Dag, turning back to the stretcher being hauled into the room. Eir drew herself up and went to her newest charge. She inhaled sharply at the sight of him. Heimdall was covered in burns, and blood oozed out of sharp cuts on his face and arms. It was a miracle he was still alive just by looking at him.

“On the scanner!” she snapped, turning to her novice, “Bring me all the healing stones you can find.”

“Can you save him?” asked Dag.

“I can damn-well try,” she replied, pushing back her hair and preparing for her own particular kind of battle.

**~*~**

Fenrir was a greedy baby, so Loki had had to quickly practise and hone his seiðr once more to be able to conjure warm bottles as needed. Jörmungandr was less hungry, but Loki made sure he ate regularly, to give him strength and to help him gain weight –he was far too skinny.

After the debacle with Hlin, Loki had refused anyone else entry, the boys weren’t ready to be exposed to people. It had taken two hours to coax Jörmungandr out from under the bed, and even longer to change back into his Aesir form. After that, Loki had given the boys a nice long bath, which had been more like a semi-swim for Jörmungandr, who had gleefully splashed away next to Loki as Fenrir was carefully patted clean. Fenrir had cooed and squirmed, before nodding off into a deep sleep once Loki had wrapped him up in several towels.

Jörmungandr’s hair had been a casualty of that bath, it was far too matted to be saved and so Loki had cut as much as he could away, leaving him with very short hair, not unlike how Loki’s hair had been at that age. It wasn’t a very good cut, Frigga would have done it better, but Jörmungandr seemed to like it, and it was much easier to brush before bed. Jörmungandr was still wearing Loki’s shirts, but he did not complain, he kept sniffing them and smiling, so Loki reasoned he found the scent reassuring.

They had spent the last few days sleeping, eating and playing games. It was just as they had done before they had been separated, Loki doing his best to keep Jörmungandr occupied and happy against the troubles around him, while secretly trying to find a way home every moment he had. Only instead of home being the palace, home was a warm embrace he ached to return to, and instead of a howling baby, they had a fussy one who did not like being put down.

“Why don’t he like being put down papa?” Jörmungandr asked, sitting on the floor with Fenrir in his arms, a pillow under the baby as Loki rummaged through his wardrobe. Loki paused and looked over at the two boys, both looking so fragile and small. He fisted his hands into the clothes in the drawer, thinking of all the things that might harm them out there. If he could only find Sigyn, bring her here, then everything would be perfect. He wouldn’t let any of them out of his sight again, they would all be safe.

“Fenrir was taken away as soon as he was born. He’s spent a very long time alone, and needs a lot of hugs to feel safe.”

“Oh.” Jörmungandr tightened his hold on Fenrir, pouting, “That wasn’t nice.”

“No, it wasn’t, you’re right Jörmungandr.” Loki’s hands relaxed and brushed something very soft. He looked and saw he had unearthed a soft blue shawl. With a jolt of remembrance, he realised it was Sigyn’s shawl, something she’d left behind long ago after a visit to Midgard, and Loki had put it away and forgotten all about it. He pulled it out and held it to his nose, inhaling slowly.

Sigyn’s scent was still on the shawl, soft and fleeting, but definitely there. Loki’s throat seemed to close as he inhaled the scent again, and for a moment it was like she was sitting next to him, her skin against his. He shuddered and swallowed a sob.

“Papa?”

Jörmungandr’s worried voice made him remember where he was and what he was doing. He turned back to the boys and took Fenrir from his brother and wrapped him in the shawl. Any whimpers Fenrir was making vanished at once and he snuggled into the soft material with a happy coo. Loki’s stomach lurched; Fenrir recognised the scent on the shawl. He smiled and pressed his lips to Fenrir’s hair.

“Never forget her Fenrir, never doubt how much she loves you,” he whispered in the tiny ear. Fenrir squirmed and sleepily batted at Loki’s cheek. Loki chuckled and caught the hand, his thumb being squeezed hard by the small fingers. He picked up Fenrir and held him close, beckoning to Jörmungandr so he was sitting in his lap. “Jörmungandr, I want to tell you about someone very important.”

“Who papa?”

“A woman who loves you very much, who loves me very much. Her name is Sigyn…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only a max of four chapters left.


	66. Kvasir's Boys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With his death approaching, Kvasir does what he can to save his boys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a little later than I meant to post, but the chapter was bothering me –and still is –but I felt this all needed to happen, but I changed some of the POV around to give a better insight to certain revelations.  
> Enjoy!

There was a shadow hovering over Kvasir’s neck wherever he went. Mimir’s shadow, calling him to uphold his oath. Kvasir had sworn to replace Mimir, but he had not said he would do it at once. Kvasir was far too clever to just lie down and let himself die when he wasn’t certain he had gotten what he had agreed to. He had said he would only fulfil his oath when Loki and Asgard were safe again, and Kvasir didn’t think either of them were. Loki had sequestered himself away in his chambers, and had not been seen for six days, while Sverrir was running around like a headless chicken trying to keep Asgard from collapsing in on itself. Despite the fact that Loki had had the presence of mind to use the oaths made to Tyr against the followers, the prisons were getting cramped and they needed to be tried properly. Only the king could authorise that.

The city was in ruins, and no one dared assume Loki wanted things to be just put back the way they were, he had proved too often to want to make changes. The king needed to approve the plans so people could rebuild. Queen Aetril and Queen Frigga were both unconscious and there was at least one child who had been orphaned by the disaster. People were desperate for answers, but there was no clear policy of how to respond the questions.

So when Kvasir found Sverrir sagging over a table in exhaustion, he growled and grabbed his son’s arm, making him jump.

“What-? Father?”

“Come on, we’re going to see Loki and get him out of his chambers.”

Sverrir spluttered, “But –but Loki said not to-”

“Damn what he said, he needs us and we need him, come on!”

Sverrir did not fight Kvasir as he dragged him through the palace, into the lift and up to Loki’s floor. The einherjar watched him warily as Kvasir tried to open the door, and the nearest one stepped between him and it.

“The king is not receiving visitors, Kvasir.”

“We must see him, it’s urgent!” said Kvasir firmly.

“The king said-”

“Let me talk to him!” Kvasir snapped, shoving the guard aside and forcing the door open.

“Kvasir!”

“Father!” Sverrir chased after him as Kvasir strode into Loki’s chambers. The einherjar followed and grabbed him, dragging him back.

“Let go of me! Loki! Loki please, we must speak!” Kvasir shouted, struggling against the warriors. “Loki please, if not for Asgard’s sake, then for the sake of your sons.”

There was a heartbeat of silence, then the doors to Loki’s bedchambers flew open. Like a raging bull, Loki emerged, dagger in hand.

“You dare threaten my son?” he bellowed, “You dare speak against them? I should slit your throat, you traitor!”

Kvasir yelped as Loki dragged him from the einheri’s hands and pressed the dagger to his neck.

“Wait! Loki, I swear I would never harm your sons, but we need to talk. It’s for their benefit.”

Loki’s eyes were wide, his face waxen, a little spittle in the corners of his mouth. He looked unhinged, almost mad, and Kvasir felt genuine fear for his own life.

“What care have you for my sons?” Loki hissed.

“Every care! I care for you like a son –does it not stand to reason that that loves extends to your sons?”

Loki growled viciously into Kvasir’s face, but Sverrir spoke up,

“Loki we have defended you and your kingship, we kept anyone who tried to harm your sons when they were beasts away from them. We protected them for you, we would never harm the –and you know it!” He finished on a fierce tone and the einherjar tensed around him. However Loki seemed to hear him. Slowly, his eyes fixed on Sverrir, Loki let Kvasir go and lowered his dagger. He stared at Sverrir, panting hard in the silence. Then a soft, frightened voice drifted from the bedchambers.

“Papa?”

Everyone turned to see a small boy in a much too big shirt peering around the door. Kvasir’s mouth fell open. Aside from his unusual colouring, the boy was the image of his father at that age.

“Jörmungandr, I told you to stay with Fenrir,” said Loki, dropping the dagger with a clatter, as he ran to the boy and swept him into his arms.

“You were yelling and I got scared,” the boy whimpered, cling to Loki with his arms and legs.

“Shush, there’s nothing to fear. I’m here.” Loki rocked the boy from side to side. With the king distracted, Kvasir drew Sverrir close and dismissed the guards with a wave of his hands. They retreated slowly, eyes on Loki as he soothed Jörmungandr. When the doors closed behind them, Loki looked up and narrowed his eyes at them.

“You’ve no right to be here.”

“We know, but we’re here because we were worried.”

“Don’t be, we’re fine.”

Kvasir swallowed, wanting to ask why Loki was hiding away if everything was fine like he claimed.

“I believe you,” said Sverrir quickly, “And I’m glad. But since we’re here, could we meet your sons?”

There was a long moment of silence as Loki looked from his son to them and back. Jörmungandr was now peeking at them with shy curiosity, his pale eyes shining from under his dark hair. Finally Loki nodded and beckoned them with a jerk of his head. They followed him into his bedchambers and the doors shut tight behind them.

**~*~**

“Sit there and don’t move,” Loki ordered, pointing at two chairs on the far side of the room, well away from the bed where he sat with his boys. For good measure he erected a barrier of seiðr between them, ignoring the twinge of a headache this caused. He put Jörmungandr in his lap, pushing his hair back as Jörmungandr stared at Sverrir and Kvasir with his thumb in his mouth. It was the same expression he had worn at home, when he had stared out the window and listened to Loki describe what was out there.

As he combed his fingers through Jörmungandr’s hair, Loki noticed Kvasir grimacing at the room’s state, and growled to himself. So what if there were clothes and empty plates everywhere, and cushions and books littered the floor, he had been busy scrying for Sigyn, trying to come up with a plan to save her, as well as look after two small boys and not sleep because every time he did he was assaulted by nightmares. He didn’t have the time to clean up.

 Sverrir was staring at him with a sheen in his eyes as if he could barely recognise him. Loki ignored him by checking on Fenrir, ensuring he was settled, and fussing with his blankets. Kvasir leaned forward in his chair, clasping his hands in front of him.  

“Loki, I think you need to come out of these rooms,” he said very carefully. At once Loki’s stomach clenched and he looked at Jörmungandr as he played with the drawstring on his shirt. He felt the same tug of alarm he always felt now when he thought about taking them outside.

“Not yet, the boys aren’t ready,” Loki said, stroking Jörmungandr’s hair.

“It would be good for them to see more of the palace, to have Eir examine them-”

“I already said Eir didn’t need to see them, they’re perfectly fine,” Loki cut in, glowering at Kvasir.

“Then surely if they’re fine, they could come and explore the palace,” said Sverrir hopefully.

Loki shook his head, “No, not yet, it’s not safe yet.” He needed more time to scry for Sigyn and find her, to bring her home and together they would care for the boys. Then they could leave together.

“For who? Your sons? You know your guards would protect them with their lives,” said Kvasir sharply. “They would Loki!” he snapped when Loki snorted, “None of your personal guard turned against you and they have been working hard to keep the peace in your name.”

Loki did not even deign to reply, he was checking Fenrir’s temperature with the back of his hand. He didn’t want to explain in detail just how dangerous the outside world was for the boys.

“Loki please, we need you to come out and be a king again,” Kvasir pressed, his hands flexing openly in a small gesture of pleading.

“So it’s not about my boys, it’s about what you want me to do for you,” snapped Loki. Jörmungandr jumped in alarm and Loki held him close again, rocking him back and forth to soothe him. “Well not this time. I lost them before for the ‘good’ of Asgard, but never again.”

“It won’t happen, Loki,” said Kvasir.

Loki shook his head, “You don’t know that, you don’t understand –everyone wants to hurt them, take them away. It’s not safe for them, and I don’t care if the realm falls down around your ears, I will not put Asgard before anyone else I love.”

“Anyone else?” asked Sverrir frowning. “Do you mean Odin?”

Loki let out a nasty hiss and buried his nose in Jörmungandr’s hair, his eyes fluttering shut as he inhaled the scent of his son. Odin had thrown the boys away, hurt them, hurt Loki. Loki didn’t give a damn about him. Jörmungandr made a small whiney noise, his little hands grasping at Loki’s neck as if to offer comfort.

“Papa… are they other people?” he asked in the quiet that had fallen. Loki’s eyes popped open and he pulled away enough to look down at him, surprised he was listening.

“Other… yes, they are other people,” he said quietly.

“Oh… never met other people,” said Jörmungandr, squirming to be put down. Loki held tight, making the boy whinge in complaint, “Wanna get down!”

“No, stay where you are Jörmungandr,” said Loki, trying to keep his voice calm. Jörmungandr struggled more, trying to go limp and slide away as he whinged,

“Why?”

“Because I said so!” snapped Loki, dragging him back onto his lap and making him let out a wail. “You see!” he added to Kvasir and Sverrir, “You’re upsetting him, go away before I send you somewhere unpleasant.”

“Loki, please, we just want to help. Your sons deserve to feel the sun on their faces, to play with other children, to learn and grow like any other child.”

“They will! I’ll make sure of it,” said Loki firmly. Of course he would, he would make sure his sons wanted for nothing, he would make up for everything he did wrong before. He just needed to make sure it was safe, that he was strong enough to protect them.

They were quiet for a while, Jörmungandr settled against Loki, playing with the draw string of Loki’s shirt. Loki started stroking Jörmungandr’s hair again and he rocked them back and forth slowly.

“So, how did you do it?”

Loki blinked and looked at Kvasir suspiciously. Kvasir gave a light shrug and spread his hands, “How did you save yourself?”

“Don’t you know? You must have known something when you threw me in there,” said Loki viciously. He didn’t want to remember what had happened in subspace. He wanted to forget it all.  

“Honestly? I had only my own faith in you to rely on.”

Loki gave a violent flinch and looked away, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I think you need to,” said Kvasir softly. “I think you need to talk to someone about this.”

Loki fired up at once, “There is only one person in the entire Nine Realms I would talk about this with and she is-” his voice caught and he looked away again, breathing hard.

“She? She who?” asked Kvasir quickly. “Who is ‘she’ Loki?”

Loki shook his head, no he wouldn’t tell them anything, wouldn’t be weak.

“Papa’s sad,” said Jörmungandr suddenly. “He misses her.”

“Shush Jörmungandr,” said Loki quickly, touching the boy’s cheek.

“Who? The boy’s mother?” asked Kvasir quickly.

“Not mama. Other mama,” said Jörmungandr.

“I said be quiet Jörmungandr,” said Loki in a sharper voice. Jörmungandr whimpered and shuddered, causing Loki to cry “No!” but it was too late. In Loki’s lap lay a dark serpent, “No, no, please don’t slip away again,” cried Loki desperately as Jörmungandr slid off his lap and disappeared under the bed. Loki dropped to his knees, trying to reach for the serpent, but Jörmungandr curled up in the farthest, darkest part of the bed and ignored his pleas. His loud voice startled Fenrir, who began to wail above him. Kvasir leapt to his feet and pushed against the shield. Loki gave a yell of protest, but his shield collapsed like brittle ice and Loki recoiled, curling up into a ball. Kvasir crossed the room and knelt by Loki’s side, resting his hand on the back of his neck. His hand was so warm, but Loki didn’t want him here, he wanted to be alone, to think and figure out his next step.

“No, leave me alone,” Loki moaned, trying to push him away, “Leave us alone.”

“If I thought it would help, I would Loki, but it won’t. Don’t shut us out, let us help you, please,” said Kvasir, squeezing his upper arm. Sverrir reached for the crying baby, but Loki’s hands shot out like whips and grabbed his wrists.

“No! He’s my son! Mine! You cannot take him away,” he shouted, shaking Sverrir hard. Sverrir looked terrified as he tried to pull away.

“I won’t! Loki please, I’m your friend, I just want to help. Why won’t you let me help? Why don’t you trust me?” he shouted, wrenching his wrists free, “I have done everything I can to support you, to be your friend, to help you and you still don’t trust me at all? What do you think I would do to your sons? Do you think I would hurt them?”

“Odin did,” said Loki in a softer voice. “He hurt them… he sent them away. They were just babies and he took them away from me.”

“I’m not Odin,” said Sverrir in a softer voice, sounding exhausted. “I’m Sverrir, your friend, the one who stood up for you, who fought for you. I am a man, and a father, and I would never harm a child. But if you don’t trust me by now… I will walk out of here, because I’m tired of trying to show you I’m on your side.”

Loki stared at him, unable to hide the tremble in his limbs. He suddenly felt exhausted, drained all over again. Finally, Loki clambered to his feet, swaying slightly as he regarded Sverrir.  As he looked into the pale, slightly freckled face, Loki found himself thinking about when they were children. Sverrir and he had played many pranks together, scheming for hours, and when they were caught, Sverrir had never once admitted to Loki’s involvement –even though everyone had always known they worked together. Slowly Loki lifted a hand and rested it on Sverrir’s neck, the way Thor often did to him, and Sverrir’s eyes widened slightly at the touch.

“You stood up for me?” Loki asked quietly.

“Of course, you’re my friend, and my king. I would have done nothing else. Why is that so hard for you to believe?”

Loki tilted his head, “I guess I’m not used to people taking my side.”

“Lots of people take your side, you’d have known that if you had spent time with us instead of only coming out when your brother dragged you on adventures.”

“I couldn’t face it,” said Loki softly. It was like something inside him crumbled and his voice sounded almost dazed, even to him. “I couldn’t stand it, seeing you all… no one had changed, except me. No one could know what had happened… I couldn’t mourn, I can’t mourn.”

“Of course you can mourn, you could have told me, I would never have –did you think I wouldn’t try to understand what had happened to you when you were gone?”

“No one could –no one would. Father and mother didn’t understand, and if they didn’t… no one else would have. They are the All-Father and All-Mother.” Loki’s legs trembled under him, and Sverrir grabbed Loki’s elbow to hold him up as Loki bowed his head. “My boys are so… who will understand? They can change shape at will, they are part Jötun, they have been monsters and now they are so small… Asgard will not forgive these faults.”

“No one asked for Asgard to forgive them! They are what they are.” Sverrir reached up and mirrored Loki’s hand on his neck, “As are you.”

Loki’s teeth gnawed at his lip, “I love my boys.” He whimpered, sagging into Sverrir’s hands. “I love my boys… but would she have understood? I had to save them, I had to bring them home. She said we wouldn’t –she wanted to save them.”

“Who?” asked Sverrir, all but holding him up. Loki shook his head, what was he doing speaking so freely, he couldn’t say any more.  

“She loved them so much. She wanted to raise them with me, be their mother. It didn’t matter to her, it never mattered to her.”

Kvasir straightened up and together, he and Sverrir eased Loki to the bed, sitting next to Fenrir who had quieted to whimpers. Sverrir picked Fenrir up and passed him to Kvasir, who settled the baby in his arms and rocked him gently as Sverrir gave Loki his full attention once more. Loki shivered and trembled, wringing his hands until Sverrir took them, whereupon he clutched at Sverrir like a lifeline. He could feel everything pressing down on him, but he couldn’t let it crush him, he had to be strong for his sons –for his wife. Even watching Kvasir hold Fenrir was almost more than he could take –they were his boys. He needed to look after them.

Sverrir tugged on his hands and made Loki look straight at him before he spoke.    

“Loki, tell me. Let me help you carry this burden.”

Loki shook his head, the pressure in his head felt like it was going to burst. “You can’t. It’s our secret… if I tell you you’ll take her away.”

“Take who away Loki?”

Loki’s chest expanded and his eyes grew wet. He couldn’t tell, he couldn’t tell anyone, but the words were on his tongue, forcing their way out of him heedless of his will and he cried out, “My **_wife_**!”

With those two words, the damn seemed to burst and Loki starting talking through chest wracking sobs. Against his instincts, against his very being, he told Sverrir and Kvasir about his relationship with Sigyn, how they had fallen in love and she loved the boys, how Angrboda had kept him trapped and forced him to lie with her, using seiðr and words to make him fear the outside of her house. He poured out his grief over the loss of his children, of how he hated Thor for being so unchanged, so normal after everything Loki had suffered, how he had run away with Sigyn over and over when it became too much.

Unable to stop now he had started, he talked about Laufey, about Gróa/Bergdís, about the Norns, about everything until finally, he was all but empty of secrets. By then he had quieted down to miserable hiccups, lying on the floor in a ball, with Sverrir sitting behind him rubbing his back. Kvasir was feeding Fenrir while Jörmungandr, still in his serpent form, had slithered from under the bed and curled on Kvasir’s knee to sleep.

Loki was exhausted, mentally, physically, emotionally, he felt he had nothing left to give, nothing left to say. He was empty and could only lie there like a useless husk.   

“I’m sorry Loki,” Sverrir whispered, he sounded like he was crying, but Loki couldn’t see his face. “I’m sorry for all of it.”

“Why? It’s not your fault,” said Loki in an emotionless voice, knees under his chin. “You’ve been a good friend, I know that.” He had always known it but he hadn’t trusted it.

“I’m still sorry,” said Sverrir, squeezing Loki’s upper arm. “You didn’t deserve this.”

“Maybe I did. Maybe I deserve to be punished for my failure as a father. Maybe I still deserve it,” Loki muttered into his fists, “I’ve had the opportunities most would never dream of and I have squandered them all. I had brilliant children, and I let them be taken away. I had a wife who loved me more than anyone or anything in the Nine Realms and I never came forward and just admitted to it, I never won us a chance to be openly, publicly happy. I had power beyond recognition and I didn’t do anything with it.”

“You made the Casket of Primal Fire,” said Sverrir gently.

“And what use is it? I could have done something else, I could have used it to make sure no one rebelled against me, I could have expanded Asgard’s size to increase our food intake, I could have used it to do something, anything!”

“It was killing you Loki, using it was too dangerous,” said Sverrir. Kvasir shook his head in agreement.

“Now I’m too weak to even scry for Sigyn –I don’t even know if she’s alive or dead and I can’t reach her,” Loki continued, not listening to Sverrir, even as he drew comfort from the warm hands rubbing his arm.

Fenrir burped, and Loki jumped. He blinked hard and lifted his head, looking at Kvasir and his sons, pushing himself up onto his elbow.

“My boys deserve a better father than me, my parents deserve a better son, my wife deserved a better husband… Asgard deserves a better king,” he whispered, an ache, dull and fatal spreading through him.

“No, don’t say that, you’re a good king, everyone makes mistakes.”

“Is that what it was? A mistake? People are dead and where was I?”

“Saving Asgard.”

“From myself.”

“From danger. And in the same moment you saved your boys and freed them from their bonds.”

“At the cost of my wife.”

Sverrir bit his lip and wordlessly wrapped his arm around Loki from behind, letting Loki lean back against him. Loki’s fingers gripped his sleeve and he sucked in deep breaths like a drowning man. He wanted to move, wanted to fight, but he had no strength and no plans. He hadn’t felt this helpless since he was in Angrboda’s home.

“Can we get you anything?” Kvasir asked quietly.

“My mother’s dying and I haven’t been to see her. I just… I couldn’t –the boys needed me and I had to find Sigyn and I couldn’t –I couldn’t.” Loki’s fingers were going white with the pressure he was applying to Sverrir’s arm.

“It’s alright Loki, the queen is still alive, and I’m sure she would understand your need to care for your sons. And we can help you scry for Sigyn.”

Loki shook his head, “I need to see her.”

“You’ll need to leave the room,” said Kvasir carefully.

“I’m not leaving my boys!” Loki snapped.  

“They can come with us,” said Sverrir in his most soothing tone, “We’re both wielders of seiðr, we can form a protective shield around the three of you, if that will help.”

Loki licked his dry lips and looked up at Kvasir, “Eir will want to look at them.”

“She will want to make sure they are healthy,” said Kvasir lifting Fenrir up to rest him on his shoulder. As he did so the blanket fell away, revealing the baby was naked. Kvasir frowned, “Loki, where is the boy’s clout?”

“What?” Loki mumbled, rubbing at his face.

“His clout, for when he soils himself, where is it?”

Loki blinked and squinted at Kvasir in bewilderment, “I… he… I don’t know.”

“You must have changed him more than once since you got him back.”

Loki shook his head, feeling alarmed, “He, he hasn’t gone, he hasn’t gone at all –I didn’t think about it. I forgot that –I just needed to feed him, he’s never been fed, and I didn’t think-”

“Shush, it’s all right,” soothed Sverrir, giving Kvasir a sharp look.

“But Kvasir’s right! He should have gone a few times now at least –Jörmungandr and Hela were relentless! Why hasn’t Fenrir? What’s wrong with him?” Loki reached for Fenrir and Kvasir obligingly handed him over. Loki held him in his hands, looking him over intently. Fenrir did not seem distressed or uncomfortable, but the fact that he had not relieved himself was worrying. Kvasir picked up Jörmungandr and stood up,

“Come Loki, let’s get Eir to check them both, just to be sure. We have no idea how Jötun-Aesir blood mixes –well apparently we do since… at any rate, we should make sure we have everything we need to know about the boys in case they get hurt later on.”

Loki’s head snapped up, “Later on? Why would they be hurt? I’ll kill anyone who-”

“I just meant accidents, like you had as a boy. You, Thor and Sverrir had your fair share of injuries, and Eir would have taken your unique physiology into account.”

“Eir didn’t even recognise I wasn’t wholly Jötun, and she did nothing to help me when I tried to fight Odin over Fenrir. Why should I trust her now?”

“She saved your life Loki, she cares for you, and she cares for your sons. Every day she asks to see them to ensure they are well.”

Loki shook his head stubbornly. “Maybe I could send a projection to see mother. It’s not safe out there.”

Kvasir crouched in front of him and took hold of his elbow, “Loki, you said that the boys’ mother used seiðr and words to convince you that going outside was too dangerous, that there were enemies and monsters waiting for you.”

“Yes, and?”

“Don’t you think that it’s possible, with everything you’ve been through the last while, and the fact that it seems you’ve… recreated the same environment Jörmungandr would be used to to ease his fears, you’ve… well you’ve fallen back into that old mind set?”

“I’m not mad!” Loki snapped. Kvasir shook his head.

“No, but you’ve been through a lot, and it sounds like you never truly exorcized the experience the way you would need to –I’ve lived long enough to see it, I still see it now in the thralls, your thralls. I can see that some of them slip back into old ways of thinking, of behaving, especially these past days which are stressful.”

“So… you’re saying I’m pretending I’m back at Angrboda’s?”

“I’m saying I think you tried to recreate the stability of it for the boys, but unintentionally stirred up the old feelings and sensations inside yourself that you repressed. I think the longer you stay in here, the harder it will be to leave, and Loki, if you want to try and save Sigyn, try and raise the boys, you need to leave these rooms.”

Loki shuddered hard, like a ghost had passed through him, and he shook his head, but Sverrir was able to coax him to his feet.

“Loki, is there a way we can go from your chambers to the Healing Room without being seen? You’re in no condition to see anyone.”

Loki flushed and held Fenrir close like a comforting doll. “Yes, if we go by the servant corridors.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do. Hardly anyone will be using them with everyone cleaning up the mess outside. All the same, maybe you should wash and dress before you step outside. It might help you feel better.”

Loki didn’t want to, he would have to leave Jörmungandr and Fenrir with the two while he did… but he did trust them. He did, he really did.

“Al –alright. I’ll be a minute.”

He put Fenrir in Sverrir’s arms, hardly able to let go and then he went to his washroom. If he had had the strength he would have cleaned himself with seiðr but he didn’t. He would just have to be quick –and in case the boys needed him, he left the door open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only two more chapters to go!


	67. The Wider Picture

It seemed to take Loki forever to wash his body and pull on fresh clothes. In reality it had only been a few minutes, slowed down as he was by his exhaustion. He brushed his hair back, and decided he was cutting it at the first chance he had, then walked back into the room. Sverrir and Kvasir were talking quietly, Fenrir asleep in Sverrir’s arms, and Jörmungandr curled in Kvasir’s hands. When they saw him, they got to their feet.

“Ready?” asked Sverrir.

No, Loki was not ready, he might never be ready, but he had to go.

“Where is Heimdall, I want to see if he can tell me about Sigyn?”

“He’s in the Healing Room –he was severely burnt by the Bifrost. Eir is keeping him under until he has recovered to her satisfaction.”

Loki swallowed against a dry mouth. “I’ll need you to tell me everything I missed. I saw some of it, but I need to know the details.”

“Later, when you’re ready. For now, let’s get you and your sons to Eir, and you can see the queen,” said Kvasir gently. 

“Wait a second!” Sverrir passed Fenrir to Loki, then hurried to the wardrobe and pulled out a dark brown cloak, which he put around Loki’s shoulders, pulling the hood up over his face. “There, and see the boys can be underneath it.”

Kvasir handed over Jörmungandr, who curled around Loki’s arm, resting his head in the crook of his father’s elbow.

“Now,” said Sverrir with as much confidence as he could muster, “Off we go!”

As they made their way through the palace, Loki felt like he was walking through a dream, nothing seemed entirely real, nothing had ever since he came back and defeated Tyr. No, before that, before Tyr, before he had been put away in the stasis pod, before he had collapsed, before… before… before. He shook his head, trying to clear it, trying to focus on Sverrir’s steady hand on his shoulder, on the weight of Fenrir and Jörmungandr in his arms.

“Here we are,” said Sverrir gently as they slipped into the Healing Room through the side door.

“I’ll get Eir,” said Kvasir, hurrying away. Loki’s eyes struggled with the light of the Healing Room after the darker passageways, but as he blinked his vision clear, he saw that the windows were covered in semi-transparent sheets, the ornate stain glass was gone. There were people everywhere, so many that the spare cots kept in storage were taking up most of the floor. Loki retreated against the wall, afraid of someone seeing him in such a ragged state, seeing his sons when they weren’t ready to be seen.

“Easy Loki, easy,” said Sverrir gently, arm around his shoulders. Against his usual nature, Loki leaned into him, feeling safer with his friend.

“How many have we lost?” he asked quietly, eyeing the injured.

“So far seventy-six bodies have been found, but there’s still people buried under the rubble of the collapsed observatory, the rock slide, some destroyed houses… we just haven’t had the time to find them all yet.” Sverrir’s eyes trailed over the large room, then continued, “There are more people in the great halls, homeless after the fires and explosions –Idavoll is quite damaged.”

“Your wife? Your children?”

Sverrir gave him a relieved smile, “Safe, my family is safe, as are my sisters, and my mother. We were lucky. Others weren’t.”

Loki shivered, how had he lost control of everything so fast?

“I should have stayed, should have been here.”

“I doubt things would have been any different, Tyr had no idea where you were or what you were doing, he assumed you were still up and about until he got to the gates. And… if someone destroyed the Bifrost, they had to have been planning this for a long time, maybe years.”

“My father would never have let this happen, nor would Thor,” Loki muttered, squeezing the sleeping baby and snake in his arms.

“Tyr would never have rebelled against them, but where then would all the people who fought for you be? They have not said so, but I think you’re the first person to ever give a damn about them, make them feel as valuable as the warrior class we have. Loki, I wish people hadn’t suffered or died… but I’m not so sure I wish this had never happened.”

“Easy for you to say, it’s not you who must answer to it.”

Sverrir rested his hand on the back of Loki’s head, “True. But I believe in your rule, and I trust it.”

“I have no idea why,” said Loki honestly, “I’ve no idea what I’m doing.”

Sverrir’s reply was cut off by Kvasir and Eir arriving in a flurry of clothes. Eir’s small, strong hands took Loki by the arm and dragged him into a small chamber off to the side.

“Loki! Thank goodness, I’ve been worried sick about you,” she said in a quiet voice, pulling down his hood and examining his face, looking grim as she saw his state, “You should have come to me at once, I-”

“Not now Lady Eir,” said Kvasir quickly, “Just make sure the king and the princes are well.”

Princes? Loki looked around in confusion before he realised that yes, his boys were princes of the realm. That thought did not sit well at all, not when he thought of all the expectations, lessons, miseries -

“I’m sure you remember my sons, Lady Eir,” he said in a low voice, cutting off his own thoughts. Eir stiffened and lifted her sharp, stern gaze,

“Of course I do. I wept for their suffering, for yours, even if I never showed you. A healer is not meant to show emotion, she must keep it to herself for the sake of her patient.”

Well, thought Loki, we’ve all been doing a lot of crying haven’t we?

“I’ve been feeding Fenrir when he cries, but only when Kvasir asked did I realise he hasn’t had a single bowel movement. And Jörmungandr should be checked too.”

“And you too, my king,” said Eir firmly, already pulling the cloak off him. Loki shivered and Jörmungandr lifted his head curiously. Loki felt Jörmungandr slither up his arm, drape his head on his shoulder, and quickly braced himself, for a second later Jörmungandr took his Aesir form, arms around Loki’s neck. It surprised Loki that he still remembered what to expect of that after so long, but it reassured him slightly as Jörmungandr squeezed his neck.

“Who that papa?” he asked, resting his chin on Loki’s shoulder. Eir’s eyes widened for a second and then she smiled.

“Don’t you look just like your father Jörmungandr?”

Jörmungandr hid his face in Loki’s neck. Loki watched as Eir switched on the scanner with a few deft presses of buttons, still mistrusting her.

“What will you do?” he asked.

“I’d like to get a full scan of the boys, assess their reflexes, their general health, and see if there’s anything I need to do for them. I will also do the same for you.”

“I’m fine,” said Loki with a shake of his head.

“You look dreadful,” said Eir shortly, “In fact, you look like a reanimated corpse. You’ve lost weight, your skin is greying and you clearly could do with your own Odinsleep.”

“How is Odin?” Loki asked. At the time he had been fixated on just doing each thing one after the other, not letting himself contemplate what he was actually doing. Eir sighed softly as she reached out for Fenrir. Loki side-stepped her and laid Fenrir on the scanner himself.

“He’s very weak,” said Eir quietly as she started scanning Fenrir without comment on Loki’s behaviour. “It would not surprise me if the trauma of the collar had sent him further away into his sleep. If he ever wakes again, it will be a long time from now.”

Loki grimaced, his eyes fixed on Fenrir as the scanner lit up and started shimmering over the tiny, prone form. Eir lifted her hands and started examining the reading. Fenrir slept on, while Jörmungandr slid down from Loki’s back and stepped closer to the scanner, holding Loki’s hand.

“What’s that papa?”

“It’s a medical scanner, it looks inside you to make sure your whole body is working properly,” said Eir, eyes fixed on the readings.

“So, is that Fen-Fen?” Jörmungandr asked, pointing at the image of Fenrir’s beating heart.

“Yes, that’s Fenrir’s heart.”

“Can I have a go?” asked Jörmungandr, looking up at Loki with wide, bright eyes. So trusting, so excited, so hopeful. Loki gave a pained smile and nodded.

“Once Lady Eir is finished with Fenrir.”

“Will you go too papa?”    

 “Yes, after you.”

“Does it hurt?” Jörmungandr asked Eir.

“Does your brother seem hurt?” asked Eir with a mild smile.

“No,” said Jörmungandr.

“Well then,” said Eir, giving a little flourish with her hands. “Hmm…” she murmured.

“What? What?” asked Loki urgently, pulling Jörmungandr closer.

“I can see that Fenrir has eaten, but he is still somewhat malnourished. He may need a slightly different food stuffs to aid him in getting stronger. Is he a sleepy baby?”

“Yes, he sleeps a lot,” said Loki, “But so does Jörmungandr, I thought it was just a result of exhaustion from being… well.”

“It probably is, but we’ll need to make sure that they get stronger, so they’ll be as energetic as you and Thor were as boys.” Eir threw him a smile, which he could not help but return. “In any case, it looks like Fenrir’s intestines are just being a bit lazy, and so much of his food is being digested to replenish his energy after such a difficult experience as he has suffered that it’s not pass through him. I’ll give him a small laxative to help energise his system in conjunction with a more nutrient food than what you’ve been giving him.”

“I’ve been giving him milk!” said Loki defensively, “I fed Jörmungandr and Hela the same thing when they were babies.”

“And there’s nothing wrong with it, but I think Fenrir would benefit from a little extra help. If you wish you can watch me make it my king, but it would be no different to what I might give any ill new-born.”

“Fen-Fen’s sick?” asked Jörmungandr, eyes widening as he looked up at Loki. Loki stroked his hair soothingly.

“No, he’s just very tired and weak from what happened, he’ll be fine soon once he’s eaten and rested some more,” he said with a smile.

“Oh.”

Eir had turned off the scanner and she retrieved a blanket, “Here my king, this will suit Fenrir better than that shawl-”

“No!” snarled Loki, making them all jump. He crossed the room and wrapped Fenrir tight in Sigyn’s shawl, “He prefers this.”

“At least let me put a clout on him so he doesn’t ruin it,” said Eir, giving him a worried look.

It was a moment before Loki could make himself nod, he didn’t want Fenrir to ruin the shawl, then it would need to be washed, and Sigyn’s scent would be gone.

No one spoke while Eir put a clout on Fenrir and then swaddled Fenrir tight in the shawl, smiling at Fenrir’s scrunching nose.

“You are a sweet boy, aren’t you Prince Fenrir?” she clucked as she gave him back to Loki, “And now, Prince Jörmungandr, up you come.”

Despite his interest, Jörmungandr was slow to move. Loki had to lift him up and deposit him on the scanner and hold his hand as Eir scanned him. Eir smiled as she worked,

“Well, your majesty, you have two very remarkable boys.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” said Loki, squeezing Jörmungandr’s hand and smiling down at him.

“Their seiðr is just as complex and impressive as yours was at this age. You’ll have to give them lessons soon.”

“And their health?”

“Well, they are both a little unusual, an organ slightly askew, some blood differences, but everything appears to work perfectly for them, just a bit different, which is understandable given they are a mixed heritage.”

“In case you’ve forgotten, so am I,” said Loki. Eir’s eyes widened and her eyes flicked to Kvasir and Sverrir behind him.

“Oh don’t worry,” Sverrir chirruped, “We’ve had that discussion today, and quite frankly I couldn’t care less.”

“I need someone to know in case it gets out and causes trouble. Forewarned is forearmed,” Loki lied, relieved that Sverrir and Kvasir accepted his pretence that this was all his idea. He could already feel his mounting panic as he relived all the things he had told them. He had exposed himself, open and raw for them to see, and it didn’t matter how much he trusted them, that information was so private, so personal… it was one thing to tell Jörmungandr about Sigyn, but he was a boy and Loki had made it into a romantic tale of love and hope. What Sverrir and Kvasir could do with this knowledge –no, they wouldn’t do anything but help him. They had proved that –but he would still have to be careful, they could let something slip.

“Well, I confess, I know nothing of Storm Giants, I can’t even be sure what size the boys will grow to-”

“You realise it’s a false term, don’t you?” Loki cut in, already reaching for Jörmungandr and feeling fed up with everything all of a sudden. “Storm Giant, that’s not what they are.”

“You mean they aren’t giant?” asked Sverrir.

“No, the boy’s mother was taller than me, but she was hardly a giant. Only the Frost Giants grow so tall, the others vary –at least that’s what I’ve learned from Prince Byleist.”

“Ah…” Sverrir sighed, “About him.”

**~*~**

It had taken some time, but SHIELD had been able to get into the self-storage unit that the Ey had opened for Sigyn and Loki. They packed up the contents and flew it over to the Helicarrier, where Thor, his friends, Stark and Rogers were waiting.

“So far nothing’s been picked up from them, but then again they are a little… unremarkable,” said Coulson as he led them into the room the contents had been put in. Twelve silver boxes sat on a table, no bigger than the small suitcases Thor had seen people dragging behind them for ‘carry-on’ as Coulson had explained it. “Any idea what they are Thor?”

Thor walked around the boxes once before saying, “These are mere boxes, they are nothing special.”

“Nothing special? My guys couldn’t open them, or see into them, so they’re a little special,” said Coulson with a quirk of his lips.

“Perhaps, but nothing about them suggests they carry anything particularly dangerous,” said Thor, running his hand over one. Like all boxes of this kind, there were no visible seams, “It is true they are secure, they require a key to open, but they are not specially designed to carrying weapons or deadly gases. They’re more often used when people move home and wish to protect their property in the move.”

“From people like us?” asked Rogers, leaning against the wall with his arms folded.

“We are not thieves,” said Sif at once.

“Then what would you call it?” asked Rogers irritably.

“Evidence gathering.”

“For what crime?”

“Treason.”

Rogers snorted, “Because Thor’s brother married a woman Thor, maybe, sorta, woulda married if he’d felt like it? On Earth that’s not a crime, never mind treason.”

“It’s proof that Loki was untrustworthy from the start,” said Sif.

“What is your problem with that guy?” asked Stark, running his own tools over the boxes, “Every time he comes up you get in a huff.” He glanced up with a grin, “Did someone get her little heart broken by him?”

Sif growled like an angry wolf, although Fandral sniggered.

“Can you open the boxes or not?” asked Fury.

“Some of your tools would do the trick Stark,” said Thor, rapping his knuckles on a box.

“Aw really? Is that all? I expected better from Space-Vikings.” Still, Stark quickly set about opening one of the boxes. It took him very little time to cut through the top of the rectangular boxes, and when he was done, he pulled away the cut portion metal, peered inside eagerly… and pouted.

“Well, that wasn’t what I was expecting.”

He reached in and pulled out a handful of small grey cartridges. “These look like they belong in an original Game Boy –Game Boy Colour tops.”

“They’re recordings!” said Thor, reaching for them, “Like how you use ipods or usb sticks to store visual recordings.” He turned the first one over in his hand and found there was writing on them. “Midgard, Sweden, Stockholm.” Another said, “Midgard, Kara Koyunla.”

“Wait, wait, wait!” said Stark, “Are you saying these are alien home movies?”

Thor shrugged, “Maybe, until we see them, I can’t say, they could be tactical information.” He doubted it though.

“If it is it’s out of date, Kara Koyunla hasn’t existed since the mid-1400s,” said Fury, taking the cartridge from Thor.

Stark’s eyes widened, “Oh my god, do you realise how much one of these babies would be worth to history nerds if they caught someone famous on tape? Like Henry VIII? Or Genghis Khan?”

“See what else is in here,” said Fury, “Maybe there’s a device to play these things on, if not Stark, I want you to find a way.”

“Sir,” said Rogers in a reluctant voice, “If they are home movies, shouldn’t we respect the privacy of-”

“Until we know what they are, no. If they’re just home videos, Thor, I’ll leave them to you,” said Fury. Thor nodded. He turned the cartridges over in his hand, and a sense of unease rose inside him that he could not explain. Now that he was holding these things, he was less certain he wanted to know what they held. Still, Fury wanted to know, so Thor would do as he was told, and if they proved uninteresting to SHIELD, Thor would decide what to do from there.  

**~*~**

Loki sat in the King’s Council Room, where he had conducted every council meeting since he had become king. From this seat he had made all the decisions that had led to this moment. Across from him sat Sverrir, rocking Fenrir.

“Are you alright?” Sverrir asked quietly, his voice echoing in the large space.

“No,” said Loki, resting his head on the sleeping Jörmungandr’s hair as he stared into nothing. “I can’t even say I will be alright again. Would you be if you lost your wife?”

“No. But then again, you don’t know if she’s dead for sure. You just can’t see her.”

They had tried to scry for her until both Kvasir and Sverrir had swayed with exhaustion like Loki, and they hadn’t seen a thing. Something was blocking their efforts –and the paths out of Asgard were all too unstable from the Bifrost’s demise to be used. Loki was trapped on Asgard with no way of reaching for Sigyn, at least while his strength was so pitiful. He didn’t even have the power to send a message to her the way they always had.

They were quiet again, Loki thinking about his mother, lying there in the Healing Room, pale and still, but fighting. Thundi had been asleep next to Frigga and Loki had been loathed to wake him as he had gone to check on Heimdall. Eir had sworn to call for Loki if Frigga or Heimdall woke, but there was very little for Loki to do, so he had come here with the boys and Sverrir so Sverrir could tell him what had happened in his absence.

It was hard for Loki to fathom so many people standing up for him, but he knew Sverrir had no reason to lie to him. Still the outlook was bleak.

The Bifrost Gone.

The Casket of Ancient Winters stolen.

Tens dead.

Hundreds, including Frigga, Heimdall and Aetril, injured.

The city broken.

The realm in disarray.

(His wife gone)

“All in all… I could have had a better first year,” said Loki softly. Sverrir snorted,

“Probably. Still, imagine how bad Thor’s would have been. We’d be at war with everyone. Instead we’re just having a clash of ideologies… and it was just your bad luck that you were king when Gullveig came seeking retribution for what Odin and Bor did. That would have happened to Thor –and you’d still be the hero because you put a stop to it.”

“Loki the hero? Doesn’t sound right. Loki the mongrel might be better.”

“I must admit, you are always full of surprises, but I can’t decide if that, or your children is the biggest of the lot.”

“Call it a draw?”

“Why not?” Sverrir shrugged.

Loki watched him as he smiled down at Fenrir. “So, it really doesn’t bother you I’m not an Odinson?”

Sverrir hummed thoughtfully, “Aren’t you though? Whatever you know now about what you are, Odin adopted you, officially even if it was secret, which makes it legally binding. Whatever your blood, you’re still an Odinson –if Odin hadn’t wanted you to have the rights and privileges of being the second prince of Asgard and possible heir to the throne, he would have done something about it. He’s many things, but he’s not careless. If he didn’t want you to have the throne, he would never have allowed you to be in line.”

Loki frowned. Sverrir was making far too much sense, why had Loki never thought of it that way?

“But what about you?”

“Loki, you’re my friend, and you’re a good king. Why should I let your species upset me? True, I’ll probably never be comfortable around a full giant –it’s the height really, it’s like being a child again –but you’re… well you’re you.” Sverrir shrugged as if he could not explain it any better.

“I doubt the rest of Asgard will be so open-minded.”

“Are you planning on telling the rest of Asgard? I think learning the original Crown-Prince of Jötunheim is alive, well and king of Asgard might set a few assholes clenching so tight they’ll never-”

“Yes thank you, I get your point,” said Loki arching an eyebrow. “And no, I’m not planning on telling anyone else –I didn’t mean to tell you, it just came out.”

“You wound me,” said Sverrir with a hint of sincerity, “But in any case, if you’re not going to tell it won’t matter. Your kingship will stand.”

Jörmungandr mumbled something in his sleep and wriggled closer to Loki. Loki reset his arms around him and rested and inhaled his scent. At length he said,

“Do you know why I don’t accept your faith in my kingship?”

“Enlighten me.”

“It’s because I’ve never believed it –my kingship I mean. Up until now, I kept thinking it’ll be over soon, someone, Odin, Thor, will take it away. So why should I worry too much about who I offend, I can just use my power to elevate my kind of people, give them a fighting chance for when the warrior-king came along.” He gave a bitter grin, “I think it was how I kept my sanity. There was an end to this thing that I did not want. Now I see no end in sight.”

Sverrir stood up and walked around the table to sit next to him in his usual place, prompting quietly, “And?”

“And… I can’t keep ruling like that. If this is to work… if my sons might inherit Asgard… then I need to rule properly. No more games. And that means I need to rule everyone equally.”

Sverrir gave a small rueful smile, “So no council made up of seiðr users only?”

Loki chuckled sadly, “I’m afraid not.”

“Well… it was a nice dream while it lasted,” Sverrir sighed, slouching in his seat.

“Don’t count it dead yet, I won’t go back to the old ways either,” said Loki with very little conviction. Sverrir gave him a sad smile.

“You don’t have to decide that yet. Just coming out of your room was enough today, we’ll take this a day at a time. Remember, you can come to me to talk.” He grinned, “I know all your secrets now Odinson, if I can’t be useful now I just plain give up!”

Loki couldn’t muster another smile as his gaze turned inward and he thought about all the things he had left unsaid to Sigyn, all the dreams he had had about having her as his queen.

“I liked her,” said Sverrir with a knowing look, “The princess. She seemed like she would be good for you.”

“She was,” said Loki softly, “And I was good for her. I made her smile when no one else could. I helped her explore when she was trapped. I showed her the Nine Realms… she saw me and helped me forgive my body for betraying me, my heart for not being strong enough, and in doing so I could be strong for her when she needed me.”

“Who knew you could be such a sentimental sap under all those clever words,” Sverrir said quietly.

“Only for her. Only ever for her.”

“We’ll find a way –and Heimdall will see where she is as soon as he wakes.”

Loki nodded and held his son close, wishing he could do something more than sit and wait. It was not his strongest skill. Then he lifted his head,

“You said there were people who needed acknowledgement for defending me.”

“I did. Many of your thralls died to protect you, they used tactics you yourself would have approved of.”

A smirk spread across Loki’s face, “Clever and sneaky you mean.”

“Naturally.”

“And who did you work with to coordinate everything?”

“Dag and Reifer were instrumental, Frigga’s maids did much of the messenger running, and Mýrkjartan didn’t sleep he was working so hard to keep track of everything.”

Loki hummed, “I’ll need a new council to advise me… but I don’t want to replace fathers with sons.”

“Well, that’s only three of us, and Dag and Reifer’s fathers are loyal –well, Delling is.”

Loki looked up, “And Hoder?”

Sverrir sighed, “Hoder’s disappeared, no one’s seen him since before the Bifrost exploded.”

Loki’s eyes widened, “You’re not suggesting Hoder had something to do with it?”

“I hope not, but Mýrkjartan asked if he could investigate the matter.”

“You suspect Hoder before Mýrkjartan? Hoder is old and blind, Mýrkjartan has only been here for a while.”

Sverrir shook his head, “You forget, I’ve known Mýrkjartan a lot longer than you –and I know him.”

“Really?” asked Loki arching an eyebrow.

“I know what he thinks. I may not understand all of him, but I do know why he came here, and why he stays.”

Loki nodded, idly playing with Jörmungandr’s hair, “He’s in love with me.”

“He loves you certainly, what kind of love it is I’m not sure. But he asked me enough about you when I knew him in Vanaheim that I know he’s not likely to betray you. Still, to be safe, I ordered Bótólfr to keep an eye on him.”

“Sounds like you were busy.”

“Yes, ruling a realm is exhausting, please never leave me again.”

Loki hummed in amusement, then drew himself up in his seat, “Tell me who exactly stood for me. I would like to reward such loyalty.”

“Starting with me I hope,” Sverrir muttered, bouncing Fenrir as the baby snuffled. Loki grinned.

“Of course. I need a new Chief Lendr Maðr, don’t I?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One Chapter Left!


	68. Looking to the Future, Seeing into the Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Final Chapter

For the first time in weeks, Loki stood at his balcony and actually looked at the city sprawling beneath his feet. Only days past it had been a smoking wreck, but Aesir were strong, and when put to work they were efficient –something Loki had forgotten when he had been surrounded by the stagnant opulence of the palace.

There were still glaring issues, the observatory was still in rubble, roofs collapsed, walls shattered, but the city looked like a dressed wound and not a gushing cut.

It would heal well; if Loki could lead them right.

A shriek of surprise made Loki turn sharply. Abjörn stood in the middle of Loki’s bedchambers, holding a tiny wolf cub.

“What? I-” the man gasped, holding the cub away from himself even as it whimpered.

“You scared him,” said Jörmungandr sharply, reaching out for the cub. “Fenrir goes wolf when he’s scared.” He took Fenrir from Abjörn and settled him against his shoulder, rubbing his black fur as if trying to burp him, all the while glaring at Abjörn. “You’re mean, go away!”

“My prince-” Abjörn started, but Jörmungandr flared up,

“Not my name! Go away, you upset the baby.” Indeed, Fenrir was whimpering loudly. Loki made himself smile in amusement, rather than take Abjörn’s head off. He was getting better at letting others near his sons. After all, if he was to rule right, he couldn’t keep the boys with him every moment, no matter how much he wanted to.

“It’s your title Jörmungandr, it goes before your name,” he called, rubbing his thumb into his other palm as he walked to them. “People call you prince, because you are one.”

“I like my name,” said Jörmungandr, sticking out his tongue and hugging Fenrir close.

“Good, I’m glad I picked it.” Loki eased Fenrir into his hands and held him close. In a few moments, Fenrir shifted back into his Aesir form, half dressed. “Now, Abjörn is only here to help, you saw him dressing me, and now it’s you and your brother’s turn.”

“Don’t like those clothes. Want to wear my shirt.”

“I already said no. You must wear what Abjörn has brought. Come Jörmungandr, that shirt is old, it needs to be washed.” Loki reached out and tugged at the sleeve of his own shirt that Jörmungandr refused to change out of.

“My shirt!” Jörmungandr shrieked, which made Fenrir shift again to blind cub.

“Now who’s upsetting the baby?” asked Loki irritably. They were short on time but Loki needed both boys to be with him for this, his first public address since the civil war. He also didn’t want to upset them, yet if they were going to learn to be princes, they needed to see and be seen. Loki wasn’t sure what was best for them in these circumstances, he had never thought beyond getting them back.

Lightly scratching Fenrir’s furry belly, Loki crouched down in front of Jörmungandr and looked him straight in the eyes.

“Jörmungandr, do you remember what I told you about Afi Odin being king, and how I was a prince.”

Jörmungandr, red eyed, nodded.

“Do you remember I told you about the big hall with all the people in it, who I would wave to and smile at with my brother?”

Another, meeker, nod.

“Now you told me you would like to do that too. Has that changed?”

Jörmungandr shook his head, looking away.

“Well, that’s what we’re going to today. But everyone will be well dressed, and I want my brave, brilliant boy to look his best, so that everyone can see how handsome he is.” Loki affectionately pinched Jörmungandr’s chin, making him giggle at the ticklish sensation. “So, come, I’ll help you dress, and we’ll let Abjörn dress Fenrir.”

As if recognising his name, Fenrir’s fur retracted into his skin and he quickly became a boy once more. Loki smiled down at him, then passed him to Abjörn, who did his best to hide his unease.

“Relax Abjörn, even if he does change back, he’s got no teeth,” Loki said cheerily, already lifting the shirt off Jörmungandr. “Now, Jörmungandr, Abjörn is a very, very good dresser –but as you know, Fenrir is a squirmer. So, who do you think will dress who faster?”

Jörmungandr looked between Loki and Abjörn who gave a little wry smirk, recognising the game easily from when Frigga had played it on Thor and Loki when they had been younger.

“You!” said Jörmungandr to Loki, twirling his fingers against his sides awkwardly.

“Shall we race?”

Jörmungandr nodded with a grin.

“All right. Three… two… one… go!”

After that, they were ready in five minutes, Loki and Jörmungandr beating Abjörn and Fenrir by a shoe.

“I look like you papa!” Jörmungandr squealed when he saw himself in the mirror. Indeed, with his hair combed back, and the green and black clothes, he did look rather like Loki, save for his distinctive coloured skin and eyes. Fenrir too, was dressed in green and black. They looked as Loki had imagined them over and over in his mind when he dreamed of bringing them home. Smiling, he squeezed them both close for a moment, then stood up and took his helm from Abjörn and put it on. He took up Gungnir and turned to the mirror for one last inspection.

He looked like himself once more, and he found himself smiling as Jörmungandr took his hand, staring at their shared reflections. He remembered Sigyn’s words to him, a year ago when he had first become king and he had asked her,

_“How do I look?”_

_“Like a king.”_

For the first time, he believed her.

Sverrir was waiting for him at the door to the throne room, he took Fenrir in his arm and offered his free hand to Jörmungandr, who reluctantly swapped Loki’s hand for Sverrir’s.

“Papa?”

“You’ll be right next to me the whole time,” said Loki soothingly. Then he banged on the floor with Gungnir and the doors opened. Loki took a deep breath, then strode inside. At once there was a burst of applause and Loki heard Jörmungandr squeak and he felt a pair of arms wrap around his leg. His determined stride broke and he looked at his son, who stared up at him in fright. Loki sighed, smiling faintly, and he picked Jörmungandr, set him on his hip and continued on to the throne. The applause stuttered as people stared in fascination at the king and the boy.

Loki set Jörmungandr down as they reached the throne and passed his hand to Sverrir, who winked at Jörmungandr and stood as close as he could to the throne with the boys. Loki turned to face the huge crowd and surveyed the crowd.

“These past days have been some of the most distressing Asgard has faced within its borders,” he said, fingers tight around Gungnir. “And we have lost much. Some people have lost their lives, others have lost family, yet more have lost homes, or titles, or honour. All of this must be addressed.

“As soon as the city has been cleared and every body recovered, there will be a funeral, where we shall send those who defended my kingship, and Asgard’s stability, to Valhalla.” No one needed to know that Valhalla no longer existed –not yet anyway. It would be one blow too many for the people. Loki had not even told Sverrir and Kvasir that. “The city shall be rebuilt, forged anew with honour to the past, as well as looking to the future. All who lost their homes are welcome to stay within the palace until their houses are restored.”

Murmurs of approval rippled through the room.

“As to the traitors who rebelled against the crown, they shall face trial, and I shall pass judgement upon every one of them in accordance with the law. I would order that no one loyal to me attempt to take personal vengeance for their betrayal. They will be dealt with by the law of Bor, of Odin, of Loki. Equally, those who proved themselves loyal with exemplary bravery and strength shall be honoured and glorified as only Asgard can do for its greatest champions.” Loki turned to a small group of people who stood to his right, “The people here went above and beyond the call of duty to their king, and I will reward them with due gratitude. Come.”

The men and women formed into a line and one by one they ascended the stairs and knelt to Loki, who gifted them with a dagger, engraved with his name and title, with his helm etched into the handle. They were small but fine, luckily the palace smiths had been able to forge them with minimal difficulty.

“Receive this dagger as a symbol of my gratitude for your bravery, and carry it with pride.”

At last the woman Ástríthr knelt to accept his dagger. Loki reached out and removed the cuffs on her wrists, “Ástríthr, you led your fellow thralls in defence of your king, such action merits rewards. Henceforth you will be known as Lady Ástríthr, and I shall instil upon you your own home and freedom of action. I will also make you a Lendr Kona, to serve on my council for the benefit of Asgard.”

Ástríthr swayed in shock, then pressed her fist to her heart and bowed her head, “You honour me my king, I shall serve you faithfully.”

“I know you will.” Loki hoped Sverrir was right about her. He waited until Ástríthr had joined the others and then lifted his fist above his head, “The defenders of Asgard!”

A cheer rose up, fists punching the air and feet stamped in approval. Loki opened his fist and lowered his hand down, damping down on the cheers. Loki swallowed and took a deep breath. This was it.

“There have been rumours about monsters and evil forces targeting the family of Bor, about deals with the death queen, and unnatural things. The truth is that there has been a blood curse upon the Bor family for generations, placed upon the line by the seiðrkona Gullveig, of who you may have heard. The curse was set to destroy the house of Bor from the inside, and it almost succeeded.”

The silence was deafening as everyone listened to Loki’s words. He had gone over his story a thousand times, knowing he would never be able to stop all the questions, but willing to try and halt as many as he could.

“There was a point in my life when I was held prisoner by dark forces, trapped and without means of escape. During that time… I begat three children.”

Loki extended his arm to his sons, “My eldest son, Jörmungandr and my youngest son, Fenrir, are here before you. And I had a daughter, the Death-Queen Hel… my Hela. How I begat her is a matter of temporal causation paradoxes, which I shall spare you the details of, but rest assured she is mine.

“After five years of imprisonment, Odin Allfather found a way to free me, but in doing so the curse caused my sons, natural shape-changers, to become trapped inside warped forms of their other selves. My eldest became the World-Serpent and my youngest became the Devouring Wolf. Their minds slept and the dark seiðr used to trap them grew them into the huge beasts that some of you saw during the attack by Tyr and his dogs. Gullveig sought to use Fenrir to kill Odin and see Asgard burn from the inside, taking everything with her. Luckily I was able to stop it –I gave up my reformed body of seiðr, exchanged it for the power to stop Gullveig and save Asgard. I am back to what I was before I created the Casket of Primal Fire –yet I would have given more to restore my sons to me.”

He beckoned Jörmungandr and Sverrir to his side and took Fenrir into his arm.

“Asgard, behold your new princes, Prince Jörmungandr Lokason and Prince Fenrir Lokason.”

Sverrir and Kvasir led the cheering of the people, who were stunned, but seemingly delighted with this good news. Jörmungandr clung to Loki’s jacket, his big pale eyes surveying the people as they knelt to the new royal family, a chorus of ‘Lokason! Lokason!’ rising up. A surge of pleasure and pride flooded Loki towards his people, and finally he felt like he might be able to rule and they might acquiesce to be ruled by him.

It was a good feeling.

**~*~**

A search through the Vanir boxes had yielded a player for the recordings, which Thor had taken straight to Fury, ignoring the other items like dresses, small figurines, knives, a tea set and a collection of other boxes which were far more securely locked than the first ones. With quick hands he set up the device which would project the recording into the air, but otherwise worked on a similar principle as the movies here on Midgard.

Picking one of the cartridges at random, Thor slotted it in and switched the player on. At once it projected a picture. Well at first it was darkness, but the sound of clicks and muffled hums, then –

“Again with the recorder Sigyn?” asked Loki’s voice.

The picture shifted to show Sigyn in alarming close-up, obviously setting the recorder up, then she pulled away and let the recorder go. It floated away from her and hovered just at her head level, far enough to show her in a cumbersome, dark dress with her hair pulled into careful plaits and curls under a wide brim hat that matched her dress.

“Why not?” she asked to an unseen Loki, “Don’t you want to remember our trips?”

“Of course I do,” said Loki, walking into the shot and revealing himself to be equally oddly dressed, in a dark doublet and a red hat perched on his hair, and tight short trousers over long green socks. “But sometimes I think you’re more interested in that thing than me.”

“Oh,” Sigyn cooed, throwing her arms around Loki with a giggle, “Are you jealous?”

“Never,” said Loki, pressing his lips to hers for a moment. Sigyn laughed as she pulled away and looked down between them.

“That codpiece is… interesting to feel.”

“It’s a pain to wear,” grumbled Loki, fiddling with it. “Honestly, are they so infatuated with their cocks they need to wear these?”

“Apparently,” Sigyn smoothed her hands over his shoulders, “Still, you didn’t like the clothes in Alexandria either.”

“That big ball on my head was uncomfortable!”

Sigyn tapped his nose chidingly, “Turban, it’s called a Turban, and it’s a sign of status.”

“And the dress was heavy.”

“But you matched me so well,” she purred. “Now stop grumbling and come along. That king of kings –or whatever he styles himself as these days is having some sort of feast.”

“I thought it was his son –although aren’t those king of kings meant to be celibate?”

Sigyn shrugged as Loki squirmed a bit more in his clothes, “Well, let’s find out.”

She started to walk away, but Loki pulled her back, “Uh, you might have set it to hover, but it’s still visible, and it’s static.” He jerked his head at the recorder, and his hat fell off. He swept it off the ground with a muttered, “Damn this thing, I hate Midgardian clothes!”

“At least you can free your legs,” said Sigyn pulling out a small button pad and pointing it at the recorder. It must have done what was needed because she smiled and put the pad away, saying, “There, now it’s incognito and set to follow me. Come on, let’s go and get something to drink, I’m dying of thirst.”

The recorder followed them at a steady pace as they wandered through some forestry, with Stark saying,

“I could invent that, easy. Be the next level of selfie mania with that thing –oh my god is that for real?”

Loki and Sigyn had entered a bustling city, with market stalls and people calling out their wares. Everyone was dressed in a similar way to the two visitors, perhaps less ornate, but not much less so.

“Must be Renaissance Rome,” said Coulson turning to Fury, “Really does look like home movies sir.”

Fury nodded, “Thor, look through them all and come back to me with a report, if they’re just sightseeing, I don’t care, but if you feel there’s something else going on, besides your family issues which seem to be the only thing and are of no interest to me or SHIELD, then let me know.”

Thor nodded, feeling oddly uncomfortable as he looked back to the projection, where Loki was kissing Sigyn, a big grin on his face. The thought crossed his mind that he couldn’t recall seeing that smile in a very long time.

A flare of anger shot through him and he stabbed the switch of the projector with his finger harder than needed.

He didn’t wonder what it was he was angry about.

**~*~**

The tentative knock on the door broke Loki’s concentration as he read through the latest reports from Reifer and Dag about the progress in the clearing of the damage done by the Bifrost –the fighting had done very little in comparison, but the damage to life had been almost as devastating. At the noise, Jörmungandr lifted his head from where he sat on the floor drawing vaguely Ás shaped figures, staring at the door. The boy was equal parts fascinated and nervous of new people, and always reacted like a startled cat at the knock on the door.

“Come,” Loki called, already knowing who it was. The door opened, and sure enough, Hlin stepped inside. Loki was surprised to see her in trousers, but most of the women in the palace had traded their dressed for trousers –he had a nasty feeling it was for their own protection as much as practicality. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail, leaving her normally half hidden face exposed. She still shrank as if hiding behind it as she curtsied to him.

“My king summoned me.”

“Yes, come and sit down.” Loki waved a hand at the chair beside him. Hlin took it, but where she had once edged nearer to him, she sat back as far as she could. Loki sighed, “First of all, I would like to apologise for my behaviour the other day. I know you were trying to help, and I reacted poorly.”

Hlin goggled at him and shook her head, “No, no my king, please don’t apologise. I could see you were very anxious about your sons, I shouldn’t have caught you off guard.”

Loki smiled faintly at her and said, “Shall we forgive each other and be done with it?”

Hlin blushed and nodded, giving him a small smile. Loki inhaled and looked around at Jörmungandr, who was drawing again, and the basket where Fenrir was sleeping.

“Hlin, of all my mother’s servants, you’re probably the one I trust the most.”

Hlin’s face flushed even deeper and her smile widened, “Me?”

“Yes, and to that end, I would like you to become my sons’ nurse.”

Hlin’s mouth fell open and she stared at him silently for a long moment –so long in fact Loki wondered if he had made the right decision. It had been Sverrir pointing that he couldn’t carry the boys everywhere that brought it to light for Loki that he needed to set up carers for his sons. No matter what he wanted, he couldn’t be with them every second, not if he wanted to keep them safe, he needed to get Asgard under his control absolutely. If he had had a choice, he might have used Frigga, but she was still unconscious and would be in no condition to look after the boys while she healed, although Eir was growing more hopeful by the day. The only other woman Loki trusted to give his sons the full time care they needed was Hlin, who he knew would be gentle with them.

It took Hlin a few tries before she could speak. “I would be honoured, but I have no experience being a nurse to children.”

“I know that, but you won’t be alone, there’ll be other women to help you. I want you to be the Chief Nursemaid.”

“Then why me?”

Loki glanced at Jörmungandr then back, “My sons have had a difficult beginning, they have never known more than myself and their mother in a single room, so this is all very new for them. I need someone with a gentle touch to look after them when I cannot. When my mother heals, I’m sure she will also want to look after them, but at this moment I need someone I know will have great patience and gentleness with my sons.”

He reached out and touched her hand, watching her blush even harder. “Hlin, will you be my sons’ nurse?”

Hlin nodded, finally looking him in the face.

“Yes, I would be honoured.”

“Good, I’m glad. I’m having Abjörn convert one of the adjoining chambers to mine into a nursery, the one Thor and I had is too far away for my tastes, and I want my boys near. You’ll have your own chambers attached to them.”

There was a knock on the door as Hlin nodded. Jörmungandr hissed and in seconds he was wrapped around Loki’s leg in his serpent form. Hlin’s eyes widened in surprise, but then she smiled.

“Amazing.”

“Come!” called Loki, hiding his pleasure at her reaction. Dag entered, breathless as he said,

“Heimdall’s awake!”

**~*~**

It was hard to believe that someone as dark as Heimdall could look so pale, but what little of his skin Loki could see under all the wrapping was palest brown. Even his eyes seemed dimmed as he looked up at Loki, blinking wearily.

“My king,” he said, and he almost sounded relieved to see him.

“Heimdall, how do you feel?” Loki asked, an Aesir-Jörmungandr in his arms.

“I will be well soon,” Heimdall murmured. Loki gave him a grin.

“I don’t doubt it.” His smile faded and he glanced around before looking down at Heimdall once more. “Do you remember what happened?”

“It’s… it’s almost a blur, I recall fighting someone, a traitor, but the face eludes me. The Bifrost… it’s gone isn’t it?”

“We’ll rebuild it,” said Loki quietly. “We’ll make it as grand as it ever was, or grander still.”

Heimdall gave a weak nod and his eyes fluttered shut. He needed to rest, but Loki had to ask him one last thing. He leaned in even closer, so his mouth was almost touching the gatekeeper’s ear.

“Heimdall, can you see her?”

Heimdall’s eyes opened slightly and he blinked up at Loki, who could not conceal how much he needed an answer.

“The princess?”

“Yes, can you see her? Is she well? Tell me she’s safe.”

Please, please let it all have been a trick, let it have been a lie that he had fallen for.

Heimdall’s golden eyes glazed as he stared through space towards Vanaheim. His brow furrowed and there was a hitch in his voice as he spoke.

“I cannot see.”

Loki swayed, catching himself on the bed, “Is she dead?”

“I don’t know –I cannot see Vanaheim. I cannot see it.”

The machines monitoring Heimdall’s vitals began to beep, calling Eir over to them as Heimdall repeated, “I cannot see anything. I cannot see anything!”

“Hush now, you’ll recover your gaze in time I’m sure,” said Eir in a gentle voice.

“What’s happened, why can’t I see Vanaheim? I can see all the other realms, but I cannot see Vanaheim!”

“You’re injured, that’s probably all it is,” said Eir, looking to Loki for help, but Loki was backing away, clutching Jörmungandr tight as he realised why Heimdall could not see his home world.

“Papa? Papa!” Jörmungandr called, wrapping his arms around Loki’s neck.

“It’s gone. Vanaheim is gone,” he whispered, sinking against the wall. “She’s gone.”

**~*~**

How long had she been crying?

It seemed like years.

Tears of fright, tears of grief, tears of helplessness, tears of pain.

Sigyn had forgotten there were so many things that could be expressed by crying.

Her fingers clawed uselessly at the collar on her neck, which bound her magic inside her, and rubbed her skin raw. It was a distraction from what was going on around her, because if she thought about what else was happening, she would be sick, and she hadn’t eaten in weeks. She hadn’t been clothed in weeks either, nor slept properly, and she had been threatened with death countless times.

Her mind was so addled she could barely recognise who was before her, who was around her and who she was herself. Long endless days of light, confounding her inner time-keeping, hours of aching silence broken only by her own pained whimpers, countless minutes of accusing dead eyes staring at her.

After weeks of torture, wherein they asked her the same damned question over and over again, they had dragged her from the cell they had kept her in, and stuffed her in a box. She had tried to scratch their eyes out, but they had laughed at her and slapped her face until she was dazed and then they’d locked her in the trunk.

How long she was held there, she didn’t know, she spent much of it in a semi-conscious state, wishing she would just pass away to death –and giggling when she thought about meeting her step-daughter Hel. Then she became aware of something sharp against her skin, she managed to curl her fingers around it, it felt like a metal nail. Instantly she thought of stabbing someone with it, but as she was jostled, she realised that would do very little damage… but there might be something else.

It was very awkward trying to reach the collar with her arms folded against her, but she managed to press the nail point to the metal and start scraping. She worked quickly, who knew how much time she had. In her mind she formed the picture she was trying to etch into the metal –it didn’t need to be deep, it just needed to be complete.

_Kenaz… Thurisaz… Uruz._

Almost… almost there.

“Open the box.”

No, not yet, she was nearly, nearly, yes! 

Then she was tipped out of the box and she collapsed in a heap. She groaned and blinked hard to clear her vision –only to wish she hadn’t.

Her mother’s dead eyes stared out at her, and behind Skadi lay Njordr, lifeless eyes staring at nothing.

Sigyn’s throat cracked as she wailed in horror, trying to scramble away. A hand grabbed her throat and forced her to be still.

“Delivered as agreed,” came the rumbling voice of Yggdrasil. The man who called himself such strode into her line of sight and approached a dark, pale figure. “The last of the Asgardian puppets.”

Sigyn squeezed her eyes shut and opened them again, trying to focus on the man he was talking to.

“Good. You’ve impressed me Yggdrasil,” drawled a deep, reverberating voice that she recognised from one singular moment in her life. She had been little more than a child, on Alfheim studying with Berach, and Aetril had had a meeting with the leader of the Dökkálfar. The Duchess Deirbhile had snuck her in under her skirts to let Sigyn see monarchs at work.

She had only glimpsed him, but that voice was unmistakable.

Malekith, Lord of the Dökkálfar.

“I am not your servant, do not patronise me as such,” snapped Yggdrasil, making Malekith turn to him. He smirked, but did not answer, instead he strode towards Sigyn, who tugged against the hand on her throat. Malekith gave a dismissive swipe of his hand, and Sigyn’s throat was released. She fell forward, gasping for air, until Malekith’s boots appeared under her eyes. She looked up at the pale face, and sat back on her heels, not even bothering to conceal her naked body. She was too far gone for that.

“You… you killed my parents. Why?”

Malekith’s smirk widened, but it was Yggdrasil who answered.

“To end this farce of a monarchy. I told you already Sigyn, the end was nigh for your inbred faction of puppets.”

Malekith rolled his eyes before looking at Sigyn again with a predatory sneer. “Let’s not waste any more time, hold her down.”

Sigyn could not hold back a cry as hands grabbed her arms and legs and dragged her onto her back. She kicked out, but the men were much stronger than her and she was exhausted, so she barely shifted their grip as they pulled her legs open.

“Wait, what are you doing?” demanded Yggdrasil. Malekith threw him a derisive look as he started undoing his trousers.

“What do you think I’m doing?”

“Wh –no! We don’t do that,” snapped Yggdrasil, “We are an honourable rebellion. We do not rape, we were going to kill her and put down her family’s reign.”

Sigyn nearly let out a shriek of laughter at that statement, but one of the masked Dökkálfar covered her mouth in a bruising grip.

“You don’t,” said Malekith, “But I have other plans.”

“What plans?”

“Plans that no longer concern you.” Malekith turned away from him, “Kill him.”

Yggdrasil roared with rage, but Sigyn could only see Malekith looming above her as he knelt between her legs.

“I’ll make this brief,” he told her bluntly. Sigyn’s eyes widened, and she tried to kick out, to fight, to get away, but their hands were like vices on her body, and she couldn’t, she couldn’t-

Malekith grabbed her hips and Sigyn’s body reacted before her mind did, throwing her head back and managing to sink her teeth into the hand on her face. The man yowled in pain and pulled away. Sigyn spat out a mouthful of blood and screamed,

“You will not win Malekith! I won’t let you.”

Malekith growled and grabbed her collar, using it to lift her up, making her shoulders twist as the other Dökkálfar held her arms down. He glared into her face.

“You’ve lost princess, now if you surrender to me, I will be considerate.”

Sigyn glared at him, feeling her collar begin to heat against her skin, “Is that what you call this? Murder and rape?”

“A necessity. You rejected my offer of marriage, but I still need you to finish what I have begun.”

Sigyn frowned, “What?”

Malekith opened his mouth, only to be distracted by a yell. Malekith looked around in time to see Yggdrasil cut down his men and run out the door.

“After him!” Malekith barked. Sigyn closed her eyes, willing Malekith to keep talking, to keep holding the collar, just a few more moments.

“Why not just kill me, I know you want my people for an army… do you really think they’ll obey me if you rape me? Vanaheim does not recognise marriage by rape.” Every use of the word made her want to throw up, but the collar was almost scalding against her skin and Malekith still had not noticed. The spell was working.

“No, it does not, but I’ve begun a process that requires a total conquest of you, body and soul. You can thank your parents for making this necessary.” Malekith snapped, shoving her back down, “Now, enough talk! Let us be done with this.”

Sigyn held her breath, focusing on the collar, and not his other hand touching her –he was still holding the collar, almost, almost.

“My lord!” cried one of the men as the collar burned red hot with seiðr as _Kenaz_ sucked in Malekith’s own power, weak as it was, he was still a natural seiðr user, and passed the power to _Thurisaz_ , who rippled through the collar and cracked it, to obey the command of _Uruz_ –Freedom!

“What!” Malekith roared in pain as the collar shattered in his hand, cutting and burning his flesh as Sigyn gasped in pain as her long buried seiðr coursed through her body and into her mind, flooding her vision with purple and blue. She did nothing to restrain it and it burst from her skin seeking liberation after being trapped for so long. The hands flew from her body and she was free! Free to run, free to fight, free to punish.

And punish she would.

All Sigyn’s life she had been seen as a pawn for others to use in their machinations, but she was more than that. No one became Loki Odinson’s lover and wife by being a pawn.

No one became Queen that way either.

**~*~**

Loki couldn’t sleep.

His sons were curled up next to him in bed, but he felt the absence of another body, one that he would give anything to feel against him, curled around his back, hands lazily stroking his torso in a mix of possessiveness and contentment.

It had been another week since Heimdall had awoken and still he could not see Vanaheim. After an initial moment of despair, Loki had decided that until he knew otherwise, he would believe Vanaheim was still there, because he refused to believe that Sigyn was gone until he saw her body dead before him.

He shivered and tightened his arm around Jörmungandr, who snuffled and kicked the covers down the bed. Loki snorted in faint amusement, then ran his hand down to his stomach, brushing over the long, mangled scar that had reappeared with his restoration, the scar Sigyn had left behind from delivering Fenrir. He had only noticed it when Eir had scanned him, and was stunned to feel the familiar tugging sensation he always felt when he touched it back as if he had never lost it.

Eir had also quietly confirmed what Loki had known, that he was once more half-Vanir, half-Jötun. To his surprise, Loki had been more uncomfortable to think about his Vanir blood, than his Jötun. After meeting his mother and putting his grandmother down, Loki could only compare them to Laufey, Helblindi and Byleist and find the Vanir coming up short. Bergdís had gone mad with her quest for power, driven on by Gullveig, who had been so consumed by desire for vengeance, she had become as blood thirsty as an Aesir berserker. In comparison, Laufey had clearly been devastated by the loss of his wife and child, and both Helblindi and Byleist had surprised Loki with their rationality and intellect.

Sigyn had liked Byleist, she had asked Loki to give him a chance. Yes, Byleist had broken the fragile trust by stealing the casket, but Loki couldn’t blame him, he would have done the same, especially if he was addicted to the Casket the way the Jötun were. On a whim, Loki brought his hand to hover above his face and focused on his fingertips. In the year since he had become king he had never tried this, but he could easily guess how to push away the illusion. Slowly his fingertips darkened and his nails blackened. The blue was almost black in the semi-darkness, but he could still make out the grooves and lines in his skin, denoting his bloodline.

He expected an instinctive stomach turn of revulsion, but it never came. Instead he felt little at all as he stared at his hand, the blue working its way down his arm. Loki’s mind turned back to a year ago, when he had been on Jötunheim and been grabbed by the warrior. He brought up echoes of the horror and fear that moment had crushed him with, but that was all they were. Echoes.

After everything he had been through since that day, it seemed like being Jötun was no longer the end of the world. It wasn’t a comfort, not at all, if it got out he would probably face more rebellions… but he felt like the knowledge would not haunt him like a shadow, trying to crush him with self-loathing. The people he cared about, his wife, his sons, his mother, his friends, they didn’t care in the slightest what he was, so long as he was Loki.

Loki let the illusion –no, his other form –return and lowered his arm to his stomach. He wasn’t sure how to control the Jötnar power, and he didn’t want to give the boys frost burn. He stared up at the ceiling and his mind returned to Sigyn. As he remembered her bloodied, bruised body, he made a solemn vow to himself. 

He would rule as a king, and be a father, but he would never stop searching for his wife.

He would scry every day, he would seek out paths to the other Realms, he would dig up the old ways of communication Asgard had used in times past. He would find her. And when he did he would make it clear to all that he was Sigyn’s and Sigyn was his, and no one would ever part them again. Not Thor, not Vanaheim, not Skadi and Njordr. Not Odin. Not even the Norns. Not even Loki and Sigyn themselves.

Loki was tired of playing childish games of secrets and sneaking around.

It was time to grow up.

**To Be Continued in the sequel**

**No More Shall We Play…**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that is it for a while.  
> As some of you may know today is the beginning of NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) and I am participating for the first time. So it’s going to be at least a month before you see anything more from me.  
> I would like to thank anyone who read this fic to the end, I know it was a long, and rather bumpy ride, and appreciate every single reader and reviewer so much, especially when I was having a really difficult time, because it made me feel like I was doing something right.  
> So I hope you enjoyed this final chapter, keep an eye out for the sequel in a few weeks, hope you all had a fun Halloween, and I will see you all in a while.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoy my work please feel free to [buy me a cup of coffee](http://ko-fi.com/notrudeginger)


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